Tag: anxiety

  • Meditating Through the Storm

    Meditating Through the Storm

    The topic of meditation came up at a family dinner at my in-laws’ place last week. My father-in-law asked me and my brother-in-law what the point is, what we gain from it, and straight away I blurted out some Buddhist theory – about seeing the nature of reality as it really is, the arising and passing of everything, the suffering, egolessness. Bla bla bla.

    But I’ve been thinking about it since then, as I tend to do, and I’d like to revise my answer: Perhaps the greatest gift for me from my practice has been learning how to be mindful through stormy times.

    I learned this early on in my practice, when I was suffering from regular panic attacks. Sometimes meditation helped calm my frazzled mind, and other times it seemed to trigger anxiety – tightness in my chest, panicked feelings, sweaty palms, etc. Somehow I pushed through – and I’m so glad I did – and eventually I found myself able to sit through an entire panic attack, to really watch it. Meditating through this thick, surreal sense of doom helped me to pull it apart and see it for what it was – what everything is when it comes down to it – a series of feelings. A ping-pong between the mind and the body. A set of physical sensations, emotions and thought patterns that, when they occur together, make up the experience of anxiety, of a panic attack.

    Don’t get me wrong yeh, these were fucking horrible experiences. But from them I learned that everything comes and goes – even when it feels like you might die any minute. Like the world is going to end. I learned that if I can look anxiety straight in the eye, identify its different parts and how they ebb and flow, it’s a little bit easier to handle. It won’t go away entirely, but its grip over me is that little bit looser.

    There’s a misconception about meditation, I think; that it’s meant to be calm and relaxing, with no thoughts or unpleasant sensations. For me, often the opposite is true. The majority of my practice involves sitting on my ass, eyes closed, watching my mind jumping around and thinking all sorts of crazy shit. Observing uncomfortable emotions bouncing off these thoughts. Aches and pains coming and going. Tingles. Tangents. Tension.

    The point is not what’s going on. The point is watching it. Disentangling the sense of “me-ness” from the present experience and taking a minute or 20 minutes or an hour to just watch it all.

    But the real point – the superpower – is bringing this understanding into everyday life.

    Last night on a call with a potential client I received an answer that wasn’t what I was looking for. At first disappointment arose, and then something darker, a feeling like we’d been played. Noticing it right as it was happening helped me to choose how I worded my next sentence – this is a strategic client and letting these feelings seep through probably wouldn’t have been the most professional move. I’m sure that if I hadn’t been mindful at that moment, my knee-jerk reaction to that feeling of being “had” would have gotten the better of me.

    Similarly, I pulled something in my lower back earlier this week, and have been in a bit of pain the last few days. When I’m on autopilot, it feels like everything hurts, like all I want to do is flop on the couch. But when I’m aware, I can isolate the pain, notice how it comes and goes, and more importantly – find the right way to hold myself so I’m in as little pain as possible. And a gentle yoga practice – another fantastic example of meditation in motion – has been helping to stretch my back out without aggravating it too much.

    To me, these are the real fruits of the practice. Mindfulness that arises spontaneously, during stuff that sucks, and lights the way.

    Bottom line – surprise surprise – I like meditation.

  • It’s the End of the World. Breathe.

    Work is insane. Even more when I’m working from home. My husband won’t stop coughing. Googling random shit and my relapsed news addiction is a part-time job. My stress levels go up and down. The kids are going crazy without their usual routine. So is the husband. The whiskey and weed supply is dwindling. Between us we’re creating five times more dishes and laundry and pee on the floor and general mess than we usually do. The supermarket ran out of ice cream. We’re all having too much screen time. What if I brought the virus back from Spain? What if we can never travel again? What if we run out of toilet paper?

    Stop. Breathe.

    Right now, everything is okay. Just breathe.

    Feel your feet on the floor, your bum on the couch, your shoulders rising and falling, the tension in your jaw releasing.

    Take a few deep breaths.

    Right now, everything is okay. Right now no one has a fever, you have a roof over your head, everyone’s breathing just fine, no one’s had a nervous breakdown. You can live without ice cream (just).

    Feel the breath as it goes in and out of your body. Follow a few breaths.

    You don’t need to commit to an hour of meditation right now, or even a minute. A few breaths is enough to ground you into the moment. Whatever you can handle. To quiet the building panic, the what ifs. The anxious, “fuck, fuck, fuck”-flavored trains of thought. It’s not a vaccine but it helps.

    The world has never felt this uncertain before, but right now, in this moment, nothing has actually changed. I’m still me, in my body, in my home. When I can quiet the bullshit, or at least not focus on it, even just for a moment, everything is okay.

    Just breathe.

  • The Anxiety of Being an Allergy Mama

    I’ve been a pregnant mother, and a Hypnobirthing mama. A natural birthing mother, a new mother. I’ve been a nursing mother for the better part of the past 5 years.

    I was a vegetarian mother and a bike riding mother. Can’t claim to be either of those at the moment. I’m a baby wearing mother. I try to be a mindful, intentional mama. I’m a working mother. I guess I’m a mommy blogger.

    Most recently, I’ve taken on a new maternal identity. I’ve become an allergy mother. And I’ve gotta say, I’m not such a fan of this one.

    The rest of my mama hats, I chose them myself. This one got thrown in for free.

    Little A has always been sensitive. As a newborn she’d scratch at her face until it bled, and she had all sorts of gastric upsets from the get go. Blood in her stools and constipation. She’d react to foods that I ate through my breast milk, to various soaps, and fabrics. To dry weather and to heat. I went on an extreme diet, we consulted with various doctors and practitioners – Western and Eastern alike.

    More recently, over the past year or so, we’ve found out that she’s allergic to eggs, walnuts and pecans. A couple of months ago she spent a week covered in scary-looking hives with swollen hands and feet – and we still have no idea why.

    This week she has an ear infection in both ears, a raging fever, not eating. The usual kid stuff, really, but with her it hits me harder. I worry more. My mind blows everything out of proportion.

    My anxiety levels are… yeh. Palpable.

    I’ve dealt with anxiety at various times in my life, both situational and during general drawn out rough patches. I have various tools for dealing with it. But this feels different. Like the danger is more imminent. Like if I let my guard down for even a minute, it could have serious consequences. And the problem is, it’s true – it’s not just in my head. Not like the panic attacks in my 20s when I’d be sure I was having a heart attack. If Little A eats something that she’s allergic to, there’s no telling what the reaction could be. Most likely it would be along the lines of rashes, hives and swelling like we’ve seen before, but allergies are unpredictable and it could affect her breathing next time.

    And it scares the shit out of me.

    In my rational mind, I know there’s always danger out there. That something could happen to either of my kids – to any of us – at any time. That I only have so much control. I know all that. I even have some level of peace with it. But this dynamic with my little one just does my head in.

    The weight of this allergy mama role was particularly apparent to me last month when I took a short trip to Rome with a girlfriend (more about that, here), and I realized how nice it was to have some time away from Little A. I feel horrible saying it, but it’s the truth. Every time she coughs I worry she’s having a reaction. One little red spot on her skin and in my head we’re already halfway to the hospital. I’m on edge all the time. It’s fucking exhausting.

    I wish I had an uplifting way to end this post.

    The best I can do right now is try to be mindful of when anxiety is present – at least call a spade a spade. So that when my mind is yelling all sorts of crazy shit about medical emergencies I can remind myself to get in a deep breath or two. Remind myself that I know the signs of an allergic reaction, and what to do for each of them. That even though it feels like everything’s spinning out of control, actually for right now, everything is fine. And more than that – the few times where Little A has actually reacted, I’ve dealt with it fine. Even if I’m alone with the two kids.

    It doesn’t get rid of the anxiety, the crushing feeling in my chest and the conviction that something horrible is happening, but it can help to put a very thin film over it. A millimeter of distance between me and the fear. And I guess that’s something.

  • To Love a Rainbow

    My rainbow baby is almost one.

    She’s happy and she’s calm. She’s obsessed with her big brother and blowing raspberries and with the patterns on our couch. She’s a beautiful, integral, magical part of our little family.

    She’s been with us for almost a year and yet, somehow it still hasn’t completely settled within me that she’s here. That it’s okay. That we made it.

    That she’s safe. That she’s here to stay.

    This isn’t about guarantees. I know that there are none.

    This is about trauma. And anxiety.

    Every little rash and I’m on edge. And Little A’s got sensitive skin. Literally a few splotches of red and my heart starts thumping and I’m on my way to a full blown panic attack. Waiting for routine blood test results feel like waiting for her to come out of open heart surgery. And don’t even get me started on digestive issues.

    I’m not like this with GG. I’m calm and confident in his existence. I trust him to stay.

    But with my rainbow baby I’m different, the relationship is different.

    Is this what it’s always like with rainbows? Does the trauma of loss ever go away?

    Because I really want it to. I don’t want my relationship with her to be tainted like this. I don’t want her to have to wear my pain forever.

    I can rationalize it all away, of course. The combination of two pregnancy losses between GG and Little A, holding my breath through half of the pregnancy, some stress around the birth and a rough time with food sensitivities are simply taking their toll. Not to mention natural parenting neuroses coupled with sleep deprivation and a healthy dose of Jewish guilt.

    I know it’s okay, that it makes sense to feel this way.

    What I don’t know is whether or not it will pass. But I guess everything does, right? And if it doesn’t pass completely, at least it will change.

    Or maybe I’m overthinking it, as I am wont to do. Perhaps our relationships with our kids are just different. They push different buttons within us, bring out different parts of us. Maybe the narrative I’ve strung together isn’t necessarily the story.

    For now, I guess my only option is acceptance. To love her with all of my heart and surrender to the fear and anxiety that’s mashed up within that love. And to hope that as time goes by, as we wrap up her first year and move into her second, that I’ll feel more secure in her existence. In her solidity.

    That in time the story of what came before will just be a blip at the beginning of the epic tale of my beautiful Little A.

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  • A List of Things that May Have Eased My Anxiety This Week

    A List of Things that May Have Eased My Anxiety This Week

    It’s been a rough few months. Nothing earth-shattering, nothing that ripples past the inner circles of me and my little family, just a tough transition. From maternity leave to full-time work for me. From home to daycare for Little A. From private to public kindergarten for GG. From summer to a new year. From known to unknown. From comfortable to oh-my-god-what-have-I-done-I-don’t-know-if-I-can-do-this.

    And somewhere in all this, my old friend anxiety raised her ugly head and came back for a surprise visit. The whole bit – panic attacks catching me unawares, largely imagined health scares, loops of negative thoughts plaguing me night and day.

    But the last week or so, things have started to feel different. Lighter, more manageable. Possibly just because time passed, because all things come and go, and possibly because I so desperately needed to push this weight of anxiety off my chest that I tried everything I knew how.

    And maybe one of those things worked.

    So here they are, in no particular order:

    1. Meditation 

    You’d think I’d know this by now – meditation works for me. It clears space and grounds me. As usual I don’t manage to sit as much as I’d like to, but whenever I do, it helps.

    2. Movement 

    At the moment it’s walking and yoga. In the thick of anxiety getting sweaty makes me feel like I’m bringing it all to the surface. Whatever “it” may be.

    3. Therapy

    I’m blessed to have a supportive therapist that knows me well, who I can check in with when times get rough. Sometimes just talking helps, and other times we’re doing what feels like real work. Reaching down into the depths of the bullshit, making some order and releasing what I no longer need.

    4. Rescue Remedy

    Maybe it’s just a placebo, who knows. It seems to help at times.

    5. Massage

    Enough said.

    6. Getting a check up

    When my anxiety gets bad, I pretty much always decide something is wrong with me. I have some crazy physical symptoms and then the cycle of worrying gets started – and it gets ugly in my head. This time I decided there was something wrong with my brain – sparked by a spat of dizzy spells and weird sensations up and down my arm.

    As it turns out, I have carpal tunnel syndrome. And probably not a brain tumor causing numbness in my forearm and fingers and electric tingles. I think, oddly, that diagnosis probably did more to lift my anxiety than everything else on this list combined.

    And apparently I’m somewhat sleep deprived. Which brings us to.. .

    7. Sleep

    Not like we’re getting full nights or anything crazy like that, but I’m doing my best to prioritize rest.

    8. Recognizing anxiety 

    This is a big one for me. I think I was having panic attacks for a couple of weeks before I realized – hang on a minute, I’ve been here before. This is anxiety.

    And it helps, calling a spade a spade. Knowing that it will pass, that it has passed before and it will pass again.

    9. Eating well 

    And

    10. Eating pizza

    Because balance, right?