Anxiety
So.....
Lately I have been once again suffering anxiety and panic attacks, of the kind that this poem explains so well.
After I'd fretted in the night about dying about three times I knew it was time to give up the dope for a bit, something which is making me quite sad because it's the main social lubricant I use with my friends and since I don't drink, smoke, know much about music, drink coffee or have any chance of getting laid at the moment, is my only vice.
I've been wondering why this has happened to me again, and why now. I checked my old diary and incredibly the date that I first mention panic attacks four years ago is just one day different in the calendar to the date this time around. (October 16th 2007 and October 17th 2011). I think the weather has much to do with it, I seem to remember the summer of '07 being very hot and so the turn to autumn might well have been just as much of a shock as this one. I was very ill last time, for months on end, and this time I was desperately waiting for annual leave in order to be sick with colds etc. then promptly denied myself any respite. When I gave up and ran away to Mum's for a day or two I felt much better mentally because of giving myself some physical rest.
I spoke about my anxiety very little in my diary last time, with a gap in entries between October 16th and late February, by which time I was well and truly over the hump. I remember from last time that exercise helps, hugely, and I need to get on it and do something regular. Last time I was very stressed with my third year of university, though I preferred to carry on with it because it gave me something to do all day. This year I have no such stress and have taken quite some time to try to put my finger on what's up.
I got somewhat angry with myself for letting myself get this way and I also felt angry at how quickly I had come to accept being in an 'anxious' state and accept that I'd have big mood swings and feel like crying all the time. I didn't want to have to accept it. I didn't want to feel this way at all.
Well, going to Bournemouth was good. I ended up being able to go without any expectations, my only desire was to sleep and watch trashy TV with no-one around to bother me. As a result, I feel I saw some things about my childhood quite clearly, such as the fact that, due to simple childhood and also not so simple religious and family reasons, I used to live in a constant state of anxiety, fear and guilt. I reflected that it was possible to see periodic panic attacks as just the echoes of my childhood, my brain suddenly realising that its been functioning perfectly well without adrenaline surges for years and years, but thinking it needs a fix or everything must not be ok.
Also: change is good. It's very bad to live in the same place for 16 years.
As to why I might be feeling anxious just now, I have a few thoughts. I have no boyfriend. Indeed, no-one at all to have sex with, something I've been rather used to, I have to say. But, any good poly has a voice inside that immediately pipes up with reminders of how many friends, ex loves and such I can get my needs met with. So, what is it about being single? I think it's because I used to rely on the 'other person' I had to reflect back to me the positive things in my life. I also used to use them as the time & place for taking pleasure. When I finished my annual leave in October I was depressed to think I had a calendar ahead of me that had work, activism and more 'work' ahead of me and no fun. This year I've been relying on my house to provide fun, which it has, but since I seem to have so much of it with my wonderful tribe of housemates, I schedule as much 'work' around me as possible, so I'm not 'wasting my life' but without taking any time to actively take great pleasure in things. I've tried hard to keep up with other friends outside the house, so that I have them all over the place and don't lose them, but these interactions are more generalised and few and far between than a romantic relationship can offer. My two best friends in the house have been my anchor, but I've found myself occasionally having tantrums if they're not around to be with me. And they are not the same as a relationship either.
So, I've realised I need to take some time to really have intense, good quality, pure fun, possibly on my own. I'm not even sure what that would entail.. . but going to the cinema is definitely something I love and lose myself in, and I used to go by myself much more often than I do now, and that was when I had a boyfriend!
And sex. People have reacted in opposing ways when I tell them I've not had sex for two months. Some saying they'd've committed suicide by now, with others wondering how on earth I could consider two months to be a big deal. It's made me wonder: is sex that important? Well.. in relation to anxiety and panic attacks I think it is a big deal. Sex is a very imaginative time for me both during and after and it is a time when I specifically go to a dark place inside myself, literally seeking and experiencing ego death, but experiencing orgasm at that moment, rather than annihilation (& panic).
To lose that experience, at a time in my life when I feel I'm finally making progress with not feeling guilty during sex, and at a time when I've become accustomed to having it regularly, with more than one person to choose from, with all the attendant intimate touch and emotional connection that goes with it, really is a big deal.
What do I do about it? Hell, I dunno. I seem to keep scaring off boys, or sometimes not providing a sufficient chase. When I turn around and respond positively to offers of sex, they disappear. Masturbate, as my friend Kate suggested, and she's quite right of course.
I've also considered what I'm lacking in my life right now and have found a glaring omission: intellectual stimulation. I've been considering an MA in philosophy and reading a philosophical biography has reminded me of the level I was at when at university, and indeed the level of stimulation I used to get from Nelson. When thinking about this MA I believe, not egotistically, that I could apply for Oxford if I so chose, and would be capable of the challenge of such a thing. It made me realise that I am capable of very high level thought and that's something I haven't had for the last year and a half. Quite rightly, I've been concentrating on trying to get what I've always longed for: friends. I'm so happy to feel I'm now socially able, and that I have the kinds of friendships that I've always dreamed of having. But I think this might be a warning that I need more. I need to stretch myself intellectually or I'll get bored... and panicky.
Having said ALL of this, the opportunity came along for me to move house. Not far from this one, but living with just one other person who I consider amazing and a friend. She's a PHD student but won't be around the house all that much. I am filled with trepidation at the idea of leaving my support network, my hectic life where all kinds of fun can be had at any hour, day or night. But so much of me is longing for acres of time alone, to do these very things I've been saying I need to work on.
So, I move on 7th December. I'll let you know how it goes.
Lately I have been once again suffering anxiety and panic attacks, of the kind that this poem explains so well.
After I'd fretted in the night about dying about three times I knew it was time to give up the dope for a bit, something which is making me quite sad because it's the main social lubricant I use with my friends and since I don't drink, smoke, know much about music, drink coffee or have any chance of getting laid at the moment, is my only vice.
I've been wondering why this has happened to me again, and why now. I checked my old diary and incredibly the date that I first mention panic attacks four years ago is just one day different in the calendar to the date this time around. (October 16th 2007 and October 17th 2011). I think the weather has much to do with it, I seem to remember the summer of '07 being very hot and so the turn to autumn might well have been just as much of a shock as this one. I was very ill last time, for months on end, and this time I was desperately waiting for annual leave in order to be sick with colds etc. then promptly denied myself any respite. When I gave up and ran away to Mum's for a day or two I felt much better mentally because of giving myself some physical rest.
I spoke about my anxiety very little in my diary last time, with a gap in entries between October 16th and late February, by which time I was well and truly over the hump. I remember from last time that exercise helps, hugely, and I need to get on it and do something regular. Last time I was very stressed with my third year of university, though I preferred to carry on with it because it gave me something to do all day. This year I have no such stress and have taken quite some time to try to put my finger on what's up.
I got somewhat angry with myself for letting myself get this way and I also felt angry at how quickly I had come to accept being in an 'anxious' state and accept that I'd have big mood swings and feel like crying all the time. I didn't want to have to accept it. I didn't want to feel this way at all.
Well, going to Bournemouth was good. I ended up being able to go without any expectations, my only desire was to sleep and watch trashy TV with no-one around to bother me. As a result, I feel I saw some things about my childhood quite clearly, such as the fact that, due to simple childhood and also not so simple religious and family reasons, I used to live in a constant state of anxiety, fear and guilt. I reflected that it was possible to see periodic panic attacks as just the echoes of my childhood, my brain suddenly realising that its been functioning perfectly well without adrenaline surges for years and years, but thinking it needs a fix or everything must not be ok.
Also: change is good. It's very bad to live in the same place for 16 years.
As to why I might be feeling anxious just now, I have a few thoughts. I have no boyfriend. Indeed, no-one at all to have sex with, something I've been rather used to, I have to say. But, any good poly has a voice inside that immediately pipes up with reminders of how many friends, ex loves and such I can get my needs met with. So, what is it about being single? I think it's because I used to rely on the 'other person' I had to reflect back to me the positive things in my life. I also used to use them as the time & place for taking pleasure. When I finished my annual leave in October I was depressed to think I had a calendar ahead of me that had work, activism and more 'work' ahead of me and no fun. This year I've been relying on my house to provide fun, which it has, but since I seem to have so much of it with my wonderful tribe of housemates, I schedule as much 'work' around me as possible, so I'm not 'wasting my life' but without taking any time to actively take great pleasure in things. I've tried hard to keep up with other friends outside the house, so that I have them all over the place and don't lose them, but these interactions are more generalised and few and far between than a romantic relationship can offer. My two best friends in the house have been my anchor, but I've found myself occasionally having tantrums if they're not around to be with me. And they are not the same as a relationship either.
So, I've realised I need to take some time to really have intense, good quality, pure fun, possibly on my own. I'm not even sure what that would entail.. . but going to the cinema is definitely something I love and lose myself in, and I used to go by myself much more often than I do now, and that was when I had a boyfriend!
And sex. People have reacted in opposing ways when I tell them I've not had sex for two months. Some saying they'd've committed suicide by now, with others wondering how on earth I could consider two months to be a big deal. It's made me wonder: is sex that important? Well.. in relation to anxiety and panic attacks I think it is a big deal. Sex is a very imaginative time for me both during and after and it is a time when I specifically go to a dark place inside myself, literally seeking and experiencing ego death, but experiencing orgasm at that moment, rather than annihilation (& panic).
To lose that experience, at a time in my life when I feel I'm finally making progress with not feeling guilty during sex, and at a time when I've become accustomed to having it regularly, with more than one person to choose from, with all the attendant intimate touch and emotional connection that goes with it, really is a big deal.
What do I do about it? Hell, I dunno. I seem to keep scaring off boys, or sometimes not providing a sufficient chase. When I turn around and respond positively to offers of sex, they disappear. Masturbate, as my friend Kate suggested, and she's quite right of course.
I've also considered what I'm lacking in my life right now and have found a glaring omission: intellectual stimulation. I've been considering an MA in philosophy and reading a philosophical biography has reminded me of the level I was at when at university, and indeed the level of stimulation I used to get from Nelson. When thinking about this MA I believe, not egotistically, that I could apply for Oxford if I so chose, and would be capable of the challenge of such a thing. It made me realise that I am capable of very high level thought and that's something I haven't had for the last year and a half. Quite rightly, I've been concentrating on trying to get what I've always longed for: friends. I'm so happy to feel I'm now socially able, and that I have the kinds of friendships that I've always dreamed of having. But I think this might be a warning that I need more. I need to stretch myself intellectually or I'll get bored... and panicky.
Having said ALL of this, the opportunity came along for me to move house. Not far from this one, but living with just one other person who I consider amazing and a friend. She's a PHD student but won't be around the house all that much. I am filled with trepidation at the idea of leaving my support network, my hectic life where all kinds of fun can be had at any hour, day or night. But so much of me is longing for acres of time alone, to do these very things I've been saying I need to work on.
So, I move on 7th December. I'll let you know how it goes.