Social Anxiety and Panic Attacks: Conversational Difficulties and The Messy Room

Someone asks me to walk through a door, into a room I've never been in before. There is a door on the other side, straight ahead, that I need to reach as quickly as possible. I'm being timed.  This is the concept of conversation, and getting a thought from my brain to my mouth. The more stressed out I am, the more problems I have, and the more problems I have, the more stressed out I get. What can start out as barely nothing can snowball into a total panic attack. Let me explain, using the imagery of this room.

• Sometimes there is absolutely nothing in the room, and it is well-lit.  (Feeling Chatty! Good eye contact, conversation flows well)

• Sometimes there's a dimmer switch keeping the light at twilight visibility, and there are tables and chairs and couches and piles of paper stacked everywhere that I have to walk around to get to the door.  (Looking around while talking, mixed eye contact, a lot of "um"s)

• Sometimes it's a hoarder house and nearly impossible to pick my way through the trash, but eventually I make it. (No eye contact, not answering you right away, subdued discussion. You may feel like I don't want to be there, which isn't necessarily true at all)

These are all pretty normal situations, and most people have felt at least those first two at one point or another. But sometimes, it's one of those situations and someone turns all the lights off. I'll be walking along and BAM out go the lights. I pause and wait for the lights to come back on.

• Sometimes it's just a brownout and they flicker back on immediately and I can go on my way. (Pausing between sentences, struggling to find simple words)

• Sometimes they stay off a little longer.  (Long, uncomfortable pauses, I look very disconcerted, and people stare at me while I struggle to remember how to speak or come up with a different words that can replace the word I'm trying to think of. This makes me panic because they are waiting for me to speak, which triggers even more pausing)

• And sometimes they stay off so long I sit down where I am and when the lights come back on I don't know which door I'm supposed to be walking toward. ("What was I saying?" "What were we talking about?" Often I have completely forgotten what was mentioned less than thirty seconds ago. This is the pause that happens when I start a grilled cheese, turn around in front of the stove, and have absolutely no clue that I'm cooking anything until I smell burning. These pauses can happen anytime and they are the reason I am not allowed to cook without a timer and why I always keep my keys next to my son in the car until he is fully buckled.)

The worst, though, is when the lights go out in the hoarder house and like some horrible haunted house, someone comes up three inches away from my face with a strobe light blinking just slowly enough that I can't pretend it's a flickering light. And then that someone starts blaring sound bytes of people screaming and honking horns and babies crying and paper ripping and books falling off of desks.  Then someone starts poking me, tripping me, shoving me. And I'm supposed to still be able to find that door, because remember I'm being timed.

When I pause when I'm talking to you, I'm trying to get through that room. When I'm pausing and crying, stuttering and having trouble breathing or getting words out at all, I'm in that last room. It's not you, it's me. And what I need is a REAL dark room with only pure softness and nothing scratchy and no words or sounds or weird smells or anyone touching me.  Only breathing.

Trying to talk on the phone unless I'm in that safe space is like a game of panic roulette. Sometimes I can focus easily and make coherent thoughts, but that's not often. I don't do well with verbal messages, so if I'm trying to listen to you and also process everything that is happening where I am and also come up with meaningful things to say, it's not going to work. I need all my senses taken away to focus on speaking with you. This is why I prefer communicating through text, where I can formulate a message without worrying about the long awkward pauses, and I can look back at what you said since by the time I have gotten to the end of your sentence I have forgotten what was at the beginning.

If you want a meaningful conversation with me, by all means call me on the phone and play roulette. I will totally try it if that's what works best for you. But you might not get the best me. No matter how flighty, impulsive, or inattentive I sound on the phone, that has nothing to do with how much I love and appreciate you and your thoughts, and I hope that you don't give up on me. Next time may be better.

Shame

How do you make yourself feel better when you've done something that goes against your belief system? Even if all your friends say, "Hey you did the right thing," or "You apologized so it's okay," how do you deal with the shame of knowing that you have failed yourself? Sure, your loved ones probably won't think much less of you, because they understand that we all fail sometimes, and they forgive you without a second thought. But how do you forgive yourself?

My own advice to someone asking this would be, "Don't dwell on the past because you can't change that. You can only change the future." Easy to say, harder to do. I have a lot of regrets in my life - things I've done, things I've said, people I've hurt, people I've ignored, things I've forgotten, things I can't forget. It's taken me a long time to come to terms with the person I was in my twenties. I don't like that girl very much. But it's been my practice to say that regret is a useless emotion and if I hadn't been that girl, I wouldn't be the woman I am today. Saying that only works, though, when I'm proud of the woman I am today.

And today I am not proud of the woman I am today.  Today. This very day. I am not proud of the Julia from this 24hr period. I said something to someone that was fueled by rage and hurt, and it was in turn hurtful. Apologies, though given, did not fix it and in fact damaged the relationship irreparably. Someone asked why the person I hurt was hurt at all, when I only spoke the truth. I said,

"One man's truth is another man's attack. No good was going to come out of posting something so filled with rage on his page. I could have approached it calmly, in private, telling him I found it hurtful, and it could have been resolved peacefully once it was determined that the post in question wasn't intended to represent his feelings about [the incident] at all. Instead I chose to take the antagonistic route. That's on me. Life lessons, I guess."

That is the truth.  I didn't have to act the way I did. How can I preach words of love, compassion, and understanding, and then act without those very things? I failed the test. When it came down to it, I didn't have what it took to be the person I want to be. And I am so filled with shame for it. I took the day off work to reflect on my behavior and to spend time with family in a constructive, loving environment. That sounds really "hippy," but there's something about the unconditional love from a toddler and the love of someone who knows everything about you - good and bad alike - that is healing. And today I need healing. I need love, kindness, and compassion. I need to forgive myself, and to take my own words to heart.  Every moment is another chance to begin anew. Even though I keep failing, keep messing up, keep losing friends, I do help people. I do fix things. I do make new friends to help heal the broken pieces in my heart.

I am not a ruined person. I am just human. If there were no shame, there would be no growth.

Today I will forgive and love myself for being human.

Pride is a nasty thing.

I should know. I wouldn’t admit it to you yesterday, but I pride myself on my listening skills. I listen to what my loved ones are saying, and I make the appropriate responses. They’re heartfelt, don’t get me wrong. But I pride myself on really understanding them.

I just had a phone call that really blew me away. Someone very special to me had to repeat something she’s been telling me for a long time, something I always “heard” before. But this time she spelled it out, and I really understood. And I felt like a jackass, because all this time I thought I was such a good listener and I just couldn’t figure out what the problem was. Maybe the problem is that I don’t actually hear what people are saying to me. I know I do this with Wife all the time. I don’t tell her things, because I’ve already told BFF or other friends, and I just assume I’ve told her. I know this really bugs her, but I’ve never actually done anything proactive about it.

Well you know what? I’m starting over. I’m going to start listening—really listening. Take notes if I have to. Because pride really does go before a fall, and I just fell really hard. And if I want to pick myself back up again, I need to pay some serious attention to what people are saying to me.

All You Need Is Love

By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another. [John 13:35]

I know some people believe it to be impossible, that a woman in a lesbian relationship could consider herself a Christian, but I do.

I don't follow every single rule in Leviticus--in fact, find me someone who does, and I will give you $25 (I was going to say $100 but I really can't afford that, on the off chance someone knows a real stickler for Old Testament rules). There is one rule professed throughout the Bible, though, that I do take to heart.

Love one another.

Love.

What is love? "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails." [I Corinthians 13: 4-8]

This is my rule--the one I live by. Love one another. Many people think that this passage only applies to the love between a couple, read at their wedding, but it doesn't. It applies to every moment of your life. It applies to the person in front of you blocking your view at the movie theater, it applies to the parent with a screaming child two aisles over, it applies to the scruffy-looking "delinquent" teenager on the street in the city.

This isn't something that only applies to Christianity. I know many other religions practice love and forgiveness as a main component of their belief, and many people who do not practice any sort of religion act with much love, forgiveness, and kindness in their lives. I'm just saying that I myself am a Christian, and that is my inspiration for my life.

If you ever wonder why I find it difficult to immediately suspect someone of malice, this is why. If you ever wonder why I am always say things like, "Well maybe they were trying to do this, and it came across wrong.." it is because I am trying to see things from their point of view. I am trying to protect, trust, and hope. If you ever wonder why I find it ridiculously difficult to choose sides in an argument between my friends, this is why. Because it breaks my heart. I want forgiveness to prevail. I want happiness and love to abound. But most of all, I love them, and to cut that love off once it has been given is like cutting out a piece of my soul.

Don't get me wrong. There are people in my life that I really can't stand. There are people who drive me crazy, and I am NO saint. There is one woman in particular who has hurt me enough that I'm fairly certain I will never be able to forgive her, and when I hear that bad things have happened to her, I can't stop myself from feeling a sense of smugness. I am a sinner, just like everyone else, and that is just one of my many faults. Everyone has their own faults, their own sins. Everyone struggles with something or another, but I can't help thinking that with just a little bit more love in the world, how much kinder the world would be.

I read an interesting quote this morning:
"Forgiveness is the scent that the rose leaves on the heel that crushes it." - John Arnott

I think that pretty much sums up how I feel about life. People will hurt us, consciously or unwittingly, every day. People say things, do things, or perhaps ignore us completely in an effort to be hurtful. Sometimes they do it without even knowing how upsetting their words or actions are. Who you are is determined by how you respond to the situation once it has been catalyzed.

One of the things I am most ashamed of, is a friendship that was ignored for too long. We both said things we may or may not have meant at the time, and in between many hurtful things were said and written. I am pleased to say that we are friends again, but in the end it wasn't me who made the first step toward reconciliation. I will always be ashamed of that. She will always remain the bigger person to me, the one with the bigger heart. She was the one who embodied the Word of God, the Lord's commandment to love one another. She doesn't know it, but every time I speak to her I think of how much I admire her for that, and my heart warms knowing that we are finally in contact again.

So, Christine, this post is dedicated to you. Thank you for showing me that forgiveness and love is a way of life, not something we pick and choose on whom to bestow. I love you.

Time Travel and Me

We've been having a Doctor Who marathon this last couple weeks. For those of you who don't know what that television show is about, it's a British sci-fi series about a time traveler from another planet (who looks surprisingly human) who has human friends, and he can travel anywhere in time and space. They go on great adventures together, and in fact rarely go anywhere without having a great adventure--some more fun than others.

One of the problems that The Doctor's human companions have to deal with is "life after The Doctor." They become accustomed to traveling universes all over time, and to live back among humans who have no idea that there is life on other planets is their idea of a monotonous hell. To plod along living life one day at a time, with many days being mundane--how could anyone live like that? They don't understand how to readjust.

My job consists of many different little tasks, but the majority of time I spend copying and pasting information between programs. The end result is a fantastic conversion of important paper documents to the Internet for your viewing pleasure, so it's definitely all worth it--just boring at times. Today I was walking out of work after a particularly mind-blowingly boring afternoon, and had the sudden thought that I wished The Doctor would come sweep me away from this life and whisk me off to various new worlds. It's a time machine, right? I could come back to this exact moment?

Then I thought about the movie Click. It's an Adam Sandler movie about a man who gets a remote control that controls his life instead of his television. He realizes he can skip past all the dull parts of his life, and thinks he's won the lottery. But after a while, the remote control begins to learn his habits, and overrides his choices and soon his whole life is over and he has missed out on all the best things.

Would I really want that? Sure, it would be nice to visit another time and another place. Heck, I'd love to just visit next week and get some lottery numbers. But I know I wouldn't want to give it up, all that traveling. I'd keep going until I was too old to go anymore, and then come back to what? My family would have all grown old without me, my friends would be gone, my pets would be long gone, and I'd be all alone in the end. And I would have missed out on all of life's small joys, like finally realizing the fun and beauty of planting a flower bulb, or sitting on the porch listening to a soft thunderstorm and the rain patter. Sure, I'd love to skip past the snowy months, but then I'd miss out on the crystallized patterns on the windows.

So, I think, ultimately.... yes. Vacations can be wonderful, but in the end the best part of life is being at home with your loved ones, living each mundane little day as it comes. One. Day. At. A. Time.

The Defeatist

I am one of those people who analyzes everything, and more often than not my analyzing borders more on over-analyzing than anything normal. If you're still with me, thanks. So today is one of those days when I should feel happy and chilled out. The sun is out, it's not too hot and not TOO cold. My wife has put down the computer and taken up the landscaping job I started over the last few weeks. We actually have progress in the area, and have put in two little bushes. It's her mom's birthday. And I don't want to do anything. I don't want to be productive, I don't want to go in public, I don't want to talk to anyone, and I feel like a fat, lazy, ugly, slob. My face keeps breaking out and I've gained weight.

I know what to do to stop it--to reverse it (well, the weight thing. The acne thing is 9/10 a mystery), but I can't bring myself to do it. I don't. Want. To move. I'm tired, I'm convinced people hate me because of things I've said or done, and I can't find any clothes to wear. I just want to go back to the bedroom, lie in bed for a week watching television and speaking to no one, and when I come out it will be wonderful spring/summer weather outside, I'll be rested and have magically dropped thirty pounds, my friends will all be clamoring to speak to me, and my face will no longer resemble a twelve-year-old's. And I'll have a British accent. I think that might make me feel better, too.

Bah.

Do you ever get so caught up in living your own life that you forget to think about how your closest friends are living theirs? I mean, you know what's going on but you don't do the right thing? Or you don't even know what the right thing is to do it?

Today I was walking on a mountain path with a couple friends and my wife. I was so busy talking to my wife that when my friend fell I saw it happen but thought she just tripped. I yelled back, "Let me know if you need anything..." Really she fell off the edge, but luckily another friend was there to catch her.

That didn't really happen. Not like that. The mountain path was emotional. But do you get what I mean? I hate it when stuff like this happens.

I feel like a scuzzbucket sometimes.