Friends Who Embrace Our Imperfections

17. April 2013 · 1 comment · Categories: Anxiety, Health/Fitness, I'm Doing It Right! · Tags: , , ,

Shame loses power when it is spoken…. If we have one or two people in our lives who can sit with us and hold space for our shame stories, and love us for our strengths and struggles, we are incredibly lucky. If we have a friend, or a small group of friends, or family who embraces our imperfections, vulnerabilities, and power, and fills us with a sense of belonging, we are incredible lucky. ~ Brene Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection

I read those sentences last night, and they stuck with me then because they reminded me of my #ppdchat and Mama’s Comfort Camp friends, as well as friends I’ve had half my life. And then today, I put them into practice when I needed help this morning. Further, I’m putting them into practice again now by writing this post.

Since this is an “I’m Doing It Right” post, I should begin at the beginning, which includes a self-pat on the back for something I did that needed doing despite my inclination to procrastinate more. It’s been a while since I had a complete physical–probably a few years before I got pregnant with Jax, who’s now 3. I believe that taking care of my health (and being proactive about it, more than anything else) is a responsibility I owe to my family (and it’s an act of self-care, although not nearly as fun or relaxing as a bubble bath). So even though I am terrified of needles and anything health-related tends to trigger my anxiety, I scheduled an appointment to have a physical. But first, my doctor ordered bloodwork, and today was D-Day.

I scheduled the lab appointment for 9:45 this morning, as early as I could get it, given that I had to fast ahead of time. This meant NO COFFEE. And this after a night of terrible sleep by Jax (which you probably noticed if you follow me on Twitter, where I tend to rant about these things).

The blood draw itself was the most painful one I’ve ever had, complete with a tourniquet that felt like an amputation. When the phlebotomist finished, she failed to have me bend my arm at a 90-degree angle and apply pressure to the site. Later, I learned that this is the reason for the trauma that happened to my vein.

She applied a wad of gauze and a crap-ton of tape to the area. It was bandaged so tightly that I couldn’t bend my arm. The second I got back to work–yeah, I had to go right back into the office after this good time–I took off all that get-up because it was excruciating! And then I had an instant anxiety attack when I saw the amount of blood on the gauze and then purple, golf-ball-sized lump under my skin. I’d never seen anything like this nor had I ever felt so much pain after having bloodwork done!

I very nearly passed out upon seeing what my arm looked like. It got to the point of my vision fading and my skin feeling cold and sweaty at the same time. I called over to my co-worker that I was about to faint and I rested my head on a stack of books. She brought me Smarties and water and rubbed my back a while. I will not forget her kindness. Another co-worker stopped by to check on me and reminded me that the Xanax I was about to take would kick in soon and I would be okay.

When the nausea and lightheadedness passed, without even really thinking about it I texted two of my friends, A’Driane and Susan, whom I know have experience with anxiety and whom I trust to walk me through mine.

Intuitively, this was the best thing I could have done. Immediately, A’Driane reminded me to breathe and said she was breathing with me. She even sent me a picture of her doing it, because that’s the kind of friend she is! It calmed me to know she was on the other end of the phone breathing with me and to see her face as I did the same. Then Susan called me, and we talked for maybe 15 minutes. When that call began, I was shaking with anxiety and in pain. Susan reassured me that when this happened to her years ago, she didn’t lose her arm! ;) And she convinced me to take some Advil. Halfway through the call, Susan said my voice had life in it again and I started to feel so much better.

When I went back to my desk, shame set in. I couldn’t believe I’d had an anxiety attack in front of several co-workers. How mortifying! And then shame piled upon shame when I said to Susan, “But the thing is, I know how to handle anxiety! I can’t believe that after so long without having it, here I am having a huge anxiety attack!”

So to send that shame packing, I thought I’d blog about this experience. Yeah, I feel kind of silly now that I freaked out over what, according to the nurse I spoke to, happens all the time when a phlebotomist screws up, but in a way I’m glad this happened. Why? Because I have friends I can lean on, who don’t judge me, who just love me and know what I need. Who also apparently have their phones at their side at all times, just like me.

I am proud of myself for leaning on them this morning. There is no shame in asking someone to hold your hand or for admitting you need this.

Brene’s quote resonated with me today. I am SO lucky to have so many awesome, wonderful friends. I could have texted any one of them, I know it, and they would have held my hand through my anxiety.



Courage Starts With Showing Up and Letting Ourselves Be Seen

26. March 2013 · 2 comments · Categories: Books, I'm Doing It Right! · Tags: , , , , , , ,

The Universe brought Brene Brown into my life many times before last Sunday, but I didn’t listen because I wasn’t ready then. I pushed away the notion that I should read some of what Brown has to say because I was afraid. I knew enough about Brown’s work as a vulnerability and shame researcher to be afraid to read her books or listen to her powerful message. Vulnerability? No thanks. Brown defines vulnerability as uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure. The thought of letting myself be vulnerable in front of others terrifies me and makes me uncomfortable.

Why? Because the message that has been taught to me over & over by well-meaning (but wrong) people in my life is that being vulnerable is a weakness and that wearing armor is a strength. That when I cry (which, yes, I kind of do a lot & openly), I’m making others feel uncomfortable. Crying, to them, is something to be done rarely and in private. Keeping emotions inside is safe and brave and the right, courteous thing to do. These are the messages I’ve carried in my head for 35 years.

But I’m done now. (This is what I am doing right.)

Upon watching Brene Brown on Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday (part one), I purchased Daring Greatly and read 20% of it in one sitting last weekend. I cried while I read it because so much of it hit home, beginning with the title of this post, which is a quote from Daring Greatly and the prompt for this post today.

It’s been a while since I wrote from the gut here and let myself really be seen. I’m going to change that. I’m going to allow myself to be vulnerable in this space.

Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren’t always comfortable, but they’re never weakness.”

Have you read any of Brene Brown’s books? If so, which one(s) and what is your favorite quote or message?




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Pre-Disneyworld Worries

25. March 2013 · 4 comments · Categories: Potty training, the parenting club, Toddlerhood, Travels · Tags: , , ,
Jax, enthralled by the Disney Jr show at Hollywood Studios

Jax, enthralled by the Disney Jr show at Hollywood Studios

This time last week, I was at Disneyworld’s Hollywood Studios with my parents, my siblings, Jax, and my husband. The sun was shining and warming up my cold, pale New Jersey skin–but not really tanning it, thanks to my overvigilant sunscreen applications. Oops.

Now I’m at work, eating a frozen entree from a plastic container, trying to pretend it isn’t snowing/sleeting outside and that the pile of work on my desk doesn’t need my urgent attention.

I think I’ll dwell in last week’s world for a bit longer, thankyouverymuch. Pass the vitamin D, wouldja?

I was nervous about a few things before heading to Disneyworld, particularly with a toddler. Jax has never flown before this trip, and although he loves all kinds of transportation in theory, I was worried he’d be that child on the plane who screams for 2.5 hours and I’d be the mom endlessly apologizing to those seated nearby. But he was great, if not slightly bored at times. In hindsight, I’d have packed better for the flight. I tried to help him pass the time with my iPad–showing him various toddler-friendly games he loves to play, movies, and tv shows–but I stupidly forgot to bring headphones that fit his little ears. My earbuds weren’t cutting it.

I also worried that I’d forget to pack something crucial to my son’s well-being. You know, a certain toy or a favorite pair of jammies–the kinds of things that if forgotten can induce a stage 5 meltdown even at The Happiest Place on Earth. On the drive to the airport, I realized what I’d forgotten to pack: his Pillow Pet. It turned out that he didn’t ask for it at all, probably too tired at the end of our long days in the parks to even notice it wasn’t on the bed. He asked for his footie Spider-Man jammies one night, but I explained that I didn’t pack them because it’s too warm in Florida for footie jammies, and thankfully he agreed! He did make me buy him Spider-Man slippers, though.

I worried about his aversion to using public restrooms. I’ve been privvy to many a tantrum in public when it came time to check potty. My mom had read a blog post (I wish I knew which one so I could credit it here) about a toddler in Disneyworld whose genius mother used stickers and Pixie dust to help her child use the public restroom. She applied a sticker to the sensor of the automatic-flushing toilet and then sprinkled glitter (Pixie dust) over the bowl to keep it from flushing on her toddler. We did purchase plenty of stickers and glitter before heading to our vacation, but we used only the stickers because, in all honesty, I simply didn’t feel like cleaning up spilled glitter all week.

The stickers did the trick. They were the smartest thing I did all week–and possibly EVER! I’m certain they prevented a handful of epic meltdowns daily. I urge anyone with a toddler who doesn’t love using a public restroom to stock up on stickers. They’ll be a permanent fixture in my purse from now on, believe me. And yes, in case you’re wondering, I did peel off each and every sticker after we were done using them.

So those were my primary worries about heading to Disneyworld with Jax, who is 3.5 years old now. He was a rockstar, though. So I guess in typical momma fashion, I did a lot of worrying for no good reason. This kid always surprises me (for the best).

Got any travel advice for toddler parents? Please share it here!

 

I Said, “Take the Meds”

27. November 2012 · 6 comments · Categories: Anxiety, Depression, Health/Fitness · Tags: , , , ,

A few weeks ago, a friend told me she’d been recently diagnosed with a mental illness. A fairly serious one. And my reaction surprises me, even now. I said, “Take the meds.”

What surprised me about my statement is that I’m not a “take the meds” kinda person. I’m a person who has indeed taken the meds when I’ve needed them, but not without weeks or months of internal dialogue and much back-and-forth. Usually, before I make any life-changing (or even not life-changing) decision, I also consult a panel of friends and family for some “what would you do” advice. And sometimes, I decide I’m too afraid of potential side effects to the meds to actually take them.

My mind works like that–I think of the side effects as a given, but I rarely consider the benefits and improvements. I’m a pessimist, obviously.

When I was depressed at age 20, I took the meds. When I was having terrible bouts of anxiety in my mid-twenties, I took the meds. But over the past few years of milder anxiety, severe PMS, and seasonal depression, I’ve relied on supplements and vitamins and other lifestyle changes instead. Not on meds. Sometimes I think about how life would have been different had I taken the meds. I’ll never know how they would have affected me–positively or negatively. I like to think that if things ever get too scary, I’d take the meds. But I know I wouldn’t take them just because a friend told me to take them.

I told my therapist about my response to my friend after I realized, a few days later, first that I said it at all and second, how it made me feel–like a big fat hypocrite and like I barely considered what my friend was feeling and dealing with before I blurted out “take the meds.”

What I now wish I’d told my friend is this:

Mental illness is scary when you’re first diagnosed. It’s sometimes even scarier before you’re diagnosed! That diagnosis opens up the path to recovery, whether that includes medication or not. Only you and your doctor (and sometimes it takes a second doctor, or a therapist or other health care professional) can make that decision. Don’t be persuaded by friends and family who are probably inundating you with their initial, gut reactions (like “take the meds,” for example). That’s what my response to your news was–a gut reaction because I care about you and want you to feel better. Instead of saying “take the meds,” I should have said “I want you to feel better” and “I’m here for you.” I also should have provided some resources to you, like websites such as NAMI. I should have told you that you’re not alone and that it will get better.

So, I hope you’re reading this. I’m thinking of you.

 

Hurricane Sandy: Knowing Your Anxiety Triggers

31. October 2012 · Write a comment · Categories: Anxiety, Toddlerhood · Tags: , , , , ,

My parents could tell you I’ve had anxiety my whole life when it comes to bad weather. There is a favorite memory in my family that will probably never fade away: Me as a teen, freaking out over some hurricane–in Florida or another place very far from New Jersey (where, back then, we rarely to never got hurricanes). My parents often had to reassure me that I was safe from whatever force of nature was raging elsewhere in the country.

I blame this hypervigilance about weather on my paternal grandfather, who bought me a stuffed animal–a fox–that had a weather radio embedded in its belly. As a child of probably about age 7 or 8, I would use the stuffed fox as my pillow some nights, falling asleep to weather forecasts. Strange, right? Well, whaddya expect–I was a strange child (and grew into a strange adult, I’m sure some would argue).

I’m careful to not share my anxiety about bad weather with Jax, who at age 3 is very perceptive now–and always listening. But this past weekend, it was difficult, at times, for me to hide my fear, despite my best efforts to stay calm using some of the advice on my Anxiety Tips page.

As everyone around him made preparations for Hurricane Sandy, Jax remained in his usual happy mood, content to watch Jake and the Neverland Pirates a gazillion times or play with cars while I fretted. But at one point, he came up to me, sat on my lap, and said “I don’t like storms, mommy.” I thought about whether I’d even talked to him about hurricanes before and realized he’d probably heard the word repeatedly over the weekend. So I explained to him that a hurricane was just a lot of rain and wind and that I’d protect him like I always do.

Later, I overheard him tell our dog, Rooney, not to be afraid of the storm and that mommy would protect him. Adorable, right?

When the hurricane sped up and gained strength prior to making landfall in Atlantic City, NJ, which is about 45 minutes from where I live, I began to notice my anxiety increase. The closer it got to 5:00–the predicted time of landfall–the worse I felt. My husband, who until this point mocked the presumed overreaction of the media–became glued to the local news, which freaked me the hell out. Not only did that mean he was worried, but the constant chatter of the reporters terrified me!

It felt impossible, then, to hide my worry from Jax. So I did what calms me best: I grabbed a half glass of red wine and my book and I headed into a hot bath. I felt guilty at first, like I should be glued to the television, too, or making last-minute hurricane preparations. But everything had been done already, and if I had stayed in the living room, I think I’d have started to cry in front of Jax. I didn’t want to worry him, so I focused on putting on my own oxygen mask, figuratively speaking. And it kind of worked, at least temporarily.

Texting with my friend A’Driane helped a lot, too. I can’t stress enough the importance of support and self-care when you’re feeling anxious.

The part of New Jersey where I live was very fortunate to not experience more damage. When the hurricane made landfall close to us, and the eye passed directly over us, things seemed to actually calm down, oddly enough. The wind quieted and the rain stopped. We never lost power, although it did flicker quite a few times. I even got a full night of sleep, which still surprises me.

The next day, I woke up and was afraid to peek out the window to assess any damage. But there really wasn’t any, other than a ton of wet leaves, a few fallen branches, and some puddles in my basement.

Hurricane Sandy was one nasty bitch. She scared the hell out of me, destroyed some of my favorite beaches and New York City, and is currently still wreaking havoc by postponing Halloween in New Jersey. But I had 2 days off from work to hang around the house and play with Jax. And that’s a whole future post…

 

photo by: The Birkes

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