[Trigger warning: anxiety]
This morning I had to go get fasting blood work done so I got up, took a quick cold shower (a new habit I’ve started this week and that seems to be helping how I feel), and then rode my motorcycle to the medical center. And back. All on an empty stomach.
I haven’t felt so well riding my motorcycle since pre-pandemic, for almost three years. It’s so wonderful to get this feeling back, this feeling of being one, my body-my mind-my motorcycle: we’re just one thing, my body-mind-bike.
Yesterday evening I managed to start listening to my friend’s podcast again and really enjoyed it (as I used to) — it gave me so much excellent food for thought while also relating to a lot of what was discussed — it also helped me feel more intellectually alive again.
Yesterday afternoon I managed to get a full three hours of good, focused, and intentional scientific work done — more than I’ve done in a while.
And yesterday morning I went for a long swim at the outdoor pool again, swimming over 2 miles, and overcoming a small anxiety attack during the first 300 meters.
These small anxiety attacks aren’t new to me. Come to think of it, I’ve had them my entire life, at least since high-school. They’re often triggered by a sense of being overwhelmed by the task at hand and/or an intense, extremely deep feeling of loneliness.
And one of my most powerful and effective coping skills has always been to break down the overall task and think only about the next tiny step.
I remember feeling terribly overwhelmed in college if I considered all the coursework and exams I’d have to face over the course of one academic year, or even just one semester. But then I’d break it down, look at each individual course, each individual week of classes, each individual deadline and the intermediate goals or milestones to reach my final goal. In the end, I was able to make it successfully to the end of my PhD, one small (or big) step at a time.
The little anxiety attacks now can be triggered by something as simple as facing a day on my own, and I usually feel them at the beginning of a long run or long swim, during the first 5-10 minutes, maybe before the chemicals from the workout kick in to quiet my brain. When that eventually happens, I get into a runner’s high, or even a swimmer’s high, and could run or swim for hours — my body is quite an endurance machine, it turns out! But in those first moments, keeping my mind quiet, keeping it from spinning, is quite an effort. And the way I keep it from spinning too wildly or dangerously, the way I rein it back in, is by thinking “Just take this small step, just swim this one lap, just run to that next tree, and you can stop any time you want or need to”. And in the end, taking one small step at a time, completely and wholeheartedly committing to small chunks while also allowing myself to stop after every completed chunk, I get through miles, and my mind (or brain?) eventually not only quiets down but also enjoys the process — and so do I as whole!
Sometimes I wonder how far these coping skills can get me, how long they will hold up. If they have been working for two or three decades, does that mean they will keep working for me for ever?
Anyway, for now, I can feel my mind quieting down overall, over the course of days, and feeling more and more grounded as the weeks go by since the reeling month of July. I can physically (chemically?) feel something settling and improving in my brain. There might still be relapses, especially as I continue to slowly wean myself off the antidepressant/anti-anxiety medication, but hopefully this positive trend toward a more clear and grounded mind will be a relatively steady course for a while… one (small or big) step at a time!
The Little Prince and the Fox 