Loneliness and Anxiety

I was reading a devotional tonight and discovered a quote from Mother Teresa.


"Today a great disease is that feeling of terrible loneliness, the feeling of being unwanted, having forgotten what human joy is, what the human feeling is of being wanted or loved...there is a tremendous hunger and a tremendous feeling of unwantedness everywhere. And that really is a great poverty."

Mother Teresa's words hit right to the heart of what I think causes most of my anxiety. "Terrible loneliness, the feeling of being unwanted." These two feelings grip me, especially the loneliness. And, they cause me to forget "what human joy is." On days when I struggle to just put one foot in front of the other, the sense of loneliness makes me think I'll never feel joy again. Loneliness, and feeling unwanted, cause me so much anxiety that I can't imagine I'll ever look forward to anything or experience pleasure again. All I can see is a future of just putting one foot in front of the other as I go through life.

Where does that loneliness come from, I've wondered. I remember very little of my childhood, but would have said it was pretty normal if you asked me. But, as I've worked my way through EMDR therapy, I've discovered that I was a lonely child and that loneliness has stayed with me, even though now I'm wanted, loved, and cared for. And, that is "a great poverty."

The poverty of not feeling accepted, of feeling alone, stayed with me long after those things were no longer true. They became part of who I am. So, now I'm faced with the task of learning to accept and love myself. Because, no matter how much others love and accept you, until you love and accept yourself, the "great poverty" will stay with you.

Sometimes Jimmy Buffett is My Therapist

Once again, I've been neglecting my blog. If you're still reading it, thanks for sticking with me. To bring you up to date, I'm still doing EMDR therapy. It's getting easier, and I've worked through more of my unrealized grief, a lot of fear, and some pretty deep sadness. It's so worth the journey, though. And, the journey isn't over yet, but I'm living with less anxiety and more acceptance right now.

During some of the hard days over the past few months, I felt overcome with anxiety and was afraid
I'd never find pleasure in anything again. I'd try to comfort myself by remembering things I used to enjoy, and tell myself that the day would come that I'd enjoy them again. During one of those days I decided to turn on Jimmy Buffett. Jimmy used to cheer me up. And, that morning when I turned on my JB playlist I realized that sometimes he's my therapist.

A line I heard that morning suddenly seemed filled with meaning, even though I'd listened to the song a million times before. "If it takes all the future, we'll live through the past."* Sometimes our pasts are so painful, and fill us with shame, sadness, and fear that's so overwhelming that it stops us in our tracks. The past seems to rob us of our future. Sometimes I've felt like I couldn't put one foot in front of the other. But, as I hummed along that morning, I felt a slight lifting of that overwhelming despair. I started to think about the future a little differently, and with a little more hope. As long as I keep taking steps, even tiny ones, it will keep me from giving up completely. Every step moves me forward. And, maybe it will take all my future to live through what I experienced in the past, but as long as I keep putting one foot in front of the other, I'm OK.

Thanks for the therapy, Jimmy.

*If the Phone Doesn't Ring, It's Me
Jimmy Buffet, Will Jennings, Michael Utley
Last Mango in Paris, 1985
Margaritaville Discography
YouTube "If the Phone Doesn't Ring, It's Me

What's Happened So Far with EMDR

If you follow my blog, you might have stopped because I haven't posted in such a long time. Or, maybe you've wondered what has happened since I started EMDR therapy. Well, I'll catch you up.

EMDR has helped me bring out a lot of things that could potentially be causes for my anxiety. I've been able to discuss some of my deepest fears, my sadness, and found grief I didn't even know existed. As I promised myself from the start, I've been completely honest with my therapist, which I haven't always been in the past. It's been a rough, rocky, tear-filled journey so far. In short, I hate it.

                                                                           

But, my panic attacks have subsided. That's the part that makes it worthwhile. Here's what isn't so pleasant. My generalized anxiety and depression have deepened. I've also gone through spells of intense anger, which my therapist says is normal as you go through EMDR.

In the midst of this, I've started a new job. I'm with the same company, but it's a new job, nonetheless. Probably not the best timing, but life happens and I've always been able to cope with life. It's a job I wanted, so I didn't want to turn it down. So, my general anxiety at work is very high. According to my therapist, it takes three to six months to adjust to a new job. I'm about six weeks in, so I'm looking forward to some of the anxiety dissipating in another six weeks or so. In the meantime, I'm using my bag of techniques from CBT-Meditation, grounding, affirmations, acceptance, yoga.

As I continue to work through, I'll keep you posted on how it's going. In the meantime, if you've had EMDR therapy, please let me know in the comments section. I'd like to hear your results. Thanks for reading and being patient when I take a break!

Is Your Christmas Merry?

Are you filled with holiday cheer? Are your jingle bells jingling? Is Santa up on your rooftop? I hope your holidays are looking like a Hallmark movie or a Publix commercial. But if they're not, don't despair. Neither are anyone else's.  The time from Thanksgiving to New Year's is prime time for anxiety and depression. There's usually too much to do, relatives to see that you'd really rather not, disappointment when you can't schedule a time to see people you really want to, and budgets that are stretched thin. Or, on the opposite side of the coin, some of us don't have family, friends, parties, and shopping to take care of. This loneliness can be isolating to anyone, especially if you have anxiety and depression.

I'm not always good about preparing myself for situations that trigger anxiety. I tend to approach them with an attitude of, "Oh, this time I'll feel fine." I ignore the symptoms as they creep up instead of acknowledging them. When I feel good I toss my tools out the window and expect to continue to feel good. It's kind of like never changing your oil and expecting your car to continue to run well. But, this holiday season I decided to make a list of the things that make my holidays bright. I decided not to try to control anything about the holidays except what I can personally control. I decided to practice acceptance and gratitude. So here's my list of holiday anxiety relievers. Remember, these are what I like to do and might not be right for everyone. Create your own list, check it twice, and maybe your days will be a little more merry and bright.

1. Make time to pray, do progressive muscle relaxation, and get enough sleep.

2. Plan time to volunteer.

3. Keep a gratitude journal.

4. Listen to Christmas music. It's my favorite part of the holidays.

5. Keep my tree lights on whenever I'm home.

6. Light an evergreen scented candle.

7. Hang out with friends.

8. Practice acceptance of how the holidays unfold.

9. Understand that others' holiday expectations may not be like mine.

10. Be in the present.

11. Be kind to myself and others.

Merry Christmas and happy holidays, everyone!

Good Grief

For those of us with anxiety and/or depression, grief can be hard. Unbearable even. It can send us into a downward spiral that we want to avoid at all cost. So, I typically choose not to grief. Sounds like the perfect solution, right? Well, not actually. Grief is part of the healing process that needs to occur after a loss. Any kind of loss, whether it's the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, or losing a job, can and should cause us to grieve. Clearly, I'm not an expert on grief, but I used some tools that helped me when we chose to have our beloved black lab, Coal, put down the Friday before Thanksgiving.

Most of us aren't comfortable with death, but talking or hearing about it creates true anxiety for me. Things that I can't control trigger anxiety in me, and death is something I feel like I have no control over. So, any reminder of our mortality can create anxiety for me. So, when it became evident Coal's condition was deteriorating, I began to worry. It reminded me we all will die and that I will die. It made me sad because we'd had Coal since the day he was born. He'd been part of our life for almost 17 years. It reminded me of when we had to have his mama put down. It reminded me of when we took my own mama off life support. It made me think of my beloved Nanny's death. Anxiety mounted. I don't like like to think about people or pets after they die. Remember, I don't grieve, so I don't reach a point where I can remember them with any joy or peace. I don't understand people who tell stories and talk about those they've lost. I just try not to feel anything. If I start feeling anything I might not be able to stop. I might just grieve forever. The pain won't stop. I'll be stuck with fear and sadness forever.

When we began to talk about having Coal put down, the sense of dread and anxiety started. But, this time, I started using some tools and techniques to help me. Reality based thinking helped. I felt like I had no control over the situation, but was that really true? I could make choices about Coal's comfort, quality of life, and how he was euthanized. I could practice acceptance by living more comfortably in the unpredictability of life and acquiring a willingness to take life as it comes. I could remind myself that feelings don't last forever and that I can let go of my sadness. And, I could practice gratitude by being thankful for all the years we had with our sweet old doggie.

As I watched our adult son say good-bye to a dog he'd known most of his life, I cried, but was able to remember the two of them playing together instead of shutting down the memory for fear of the pain. As I talked with our daughter who lives in another city, I cried, but believed her when she said we were making the right decision. As we watched Coal peacefully slip from this life, I cried, and was a little less afraid that I would cry forever. And, as I write this post, I'm crying, but know that the tears will stop, that the feelings will pass, and that grief can be good.