Tag: fear

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Resiliency Over Fear

In case you haven’t noticed, the last two years haven’t been the most uplifting (eye roll). People who have never struggled with depression or anxiety, are now struggling. Those with underlying mental health conditions are experiencing major setbacks and are being thrown into a mental state that they may have thought they were immune to by now. The amount of death that has happened over the past two years is, by far, the most I have seen in 41 years, and I’m sure I’m not alone in that. Granted, as I get older, I will know more people who die – something that I am still struggling to wrap my head around. 

As someone with OCD, I don’t have a period at the end of my thoughts. My thoughts sort of just…keep going. They are endless revolving doors that sometimes move so fast, I won’t even try to stop them in fear of getting my hand chopped off…metaphorically speaking. So, instead, I stand there and watch the doors (thoughts) go around, and around, and around, and around again. At times, I’ll get the balls to try to jump into one of the moving sections to find my way out, and onto the public streets again (again…a metaphor – work with me here).

I’m sharing the following story in hopes that it helps someone feel less alone out there. After all, we’re all just trying to figure it out with the cards we’ve been dealt, am I right?

OK, onto one of my more epic OCD “Nina moments”.  

Last week, I was watching Netflix in bed on my phone. My husband was downstairs watching his shows – ya know…like the classic married couple in 2022. Typically, he comes up before I go to bed (I’m the night owl in the relationship). Well, as it neared 1:00 am, my heart started to race. I even paused my Netflix show! (Trust me – that takes a lot).  I had this dark and heavy feeling that he may have died downstairs, and I wouldn’t know unless I went down there. I sat up in the bed with my phone in my lap, staring at the door. I had tears welling up in my eyes, and knots in my stomach.

If he’s dead, I’ll scream. No, I can’t. I’ll wake the kids, and that is NOT how I want them to find out. Should I call 911 first before waking the kids? What if the sirens wake them up? Fuck, I should be down there right now. What if his heart just recently stopped, and I can keep him alive by doing CPR right now? Ugh. Our kids will be destroyed! My heart (and life) will shatter in a million pieces! I can’t do this. I can’t go down there. I have to go down there. Nina – hurry the fuck up and just go!

I walked downstairs, and I could hear my heartbeat in my ears – you ever have that? Such an eerie feeling. My husband listens to the TV with headphones in, so he doesn’t wake the kids. It was silent as I walked apprehensively down the stairs. I headed toward the kitchen and was about to take a left into the living room. A thousand images popped into my head.

Would he be slumped over? Would his eyes still be open? Will his bodily functions have already given out? I can’t have my kids see him like that. Oh my God, I want to vomit. Please, please be alive.

I turned the corner. There he was. Eyes wide open. Alive and well.

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have told my husband about the entire mental fuck I had just gone through, because he’s heard enough of those over the last 18 years. However, this time just felt heavier than normal, and way too real. I walked over to him, sat down on the couch, melted into his chest…and cried. Poor guy was just trying to watch his Netflix series, and I come in like the ultimate cockblock. He held me as I recounted the entire five-minute mental ordeal that felt like five hours. Truth be told, this wasn’t particularly “new” to him, so he understood that it would take me a few minutes to get over his “pseudo death” and move onto something else…like the house randomly caving in. Ya know – the usual.

With over three decades of living with my brain, I could come up with a multi-volume series of stories just like that one – and I know I’m not alone. About 2% of the US population has OCD, so I’m actually 100% sure I’m not alone. Along with a lifetime of these bouts of mental fuckery, I have also spent my entire life figuring out how to work with my mind, and not against it. As a kid, I tried to escape my own mind daily. As an adult, I try to understand how to exist with it. Ironically, this is the same mindset I have when coaching clients. Helping them not to be afraid or ashamed of their thoughts, desires, or fantasies – but rather learn to understand them and find ways to exist with them in a healthy way.

For me, it all revolves around a lack of control. So, things like terminal illness and death. I mean, let’s be honest – none of us know when any of those will happen, how, or what it would “feel” like. So, we’re left with two options: 1) Live in a state of constant panic and fear, resisting life tooth and nail, or 2) Work on developing confidence in our innate resiliency.

Spoiler alert: I’ve chosen the latter. For what it’s worth, here’s what I’m learning…

Resisting what we can’t control gives us a false sense of security. We somehow believe that if we resist it – fear it – obsess over it, we will somehow be more prepared or experience less emotional pain if it were to happen. I mean, can you imagine if that were true?

My husband just passed away suddenly, but I’m totally fine because I spent the last decade obsessing and worrying about it. Whew! That was a close call! So, what’s for dinner?

Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? Yet, many of us who obsess over this stuff have yet to consciously accept its absurdity. So, how do we practice accepting it, you ask? We stop focusing on what we don’t know and focus on what we do. Here’s what I know:

  • Nobody dies from emotional pain – although it may feel like it in the moment.
  • Death is not the opposite of life, it’s a part of it (I heard this recently, and it made me think).
  • Although the pain of losing a loved one can be brutal, the world keeps spinning whether we want it to or not.
  • None of us can get through life alone. We are relational beings who require connection. There are over 7 billion people on earth, and the internet allows us to connect with most of them. This also serves as a reminder that during the darkest hours of our lives, there will always be someone who shows up to turn on some lights.
  • All living things are resilient. People, plants, and animals. Period. We have to be. It’s a survival thing.
  • There is no way to worry ourselves into invincibility.

Some closing thoughts…

Practice focusing on what IS. Easier said than done, but worth it – trust me. Come up with a phrase (or two) that isn’t cheesy and that you can say to yourself when you get stuck in the fear. My go to is, “I’m resilient. If that happens, I will somehow handle it.” Take the time to come up with something that you can resonate with. I’m not a very spiritual or woo-woo person, so I needed something concrete.

Once you say the phrase, then it’s time to distract, redirect, and trace another pathway in your brain (literally – neuroplasticity is a thing. Google it). For me, I have three things I can do that require enough mental energy from me that it’s difficult to think of anything other than what I’m doing in that moment; painting my nails, coloring, or creating digital content/images. If you saw how many nail polishes I have, you’d believe me on this one.

Again, these can be a million and one different things, but get to know what works for you. Maybe it’s reading, watching Netflix, checking out the latest TikTok dance challenge, going for a walk, volunteering at a dog shelter, cleaning, etc. Every time a thought comes into your head that puts you back in that out-of-control space, go back to your phrase, your distraction, and the redirect. We can even be cool and make it an acronym – PDR.

Look, this world has knocked us all on our asses over the past two years. We can either sit with the dog shit on our shoes, or we can figure out a way to wash it off. I don’t know about you…but I’m heading for the hose. Meet ya there <3

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Purpose in Pain: Controlling the Uncontrollable

Photo by Logan Fisher on Unsplash

One of the most evolutionary parts of being human is our instinct to survive. Back in the day, it was based on physical safety. A tiger would be near, your senses would heighten, and you would be able to fight the tiger (not the best decision), or get the hell out of there, running faster than usual. Pure survival mode. Humans avoid pain as a way to survive. It keeps us safe. The concept makes sense, and I really have nothing to argue there.

But what about emotional pain? I mean, we still experience fight or flight when we’re waiting for news about our sick pet, when we are about to start a difficult conversation, or when we think our partner is being unfaithful. None of those scenarios are inherently dangerous or threaten our lives, but our autonomic nervous system didn’t get the memo, apparently.

I often joke about being great in an emergency because, chances are, I’ve already experienced the damn scenario in my head multiple times. I’ve emotionally “lived through” some of the most horrific situations…without them ever happening. It’s a skill, really…(eye roll).

My rational brain (which is somewhere really freakin deep in there) knows that fearing emotional pain will not actually make it any easier to deal with, should it happen. That fear is our brain’s way of trying to live through the experience to eliminate the feeling of the “unknown”. You see, as human beings, we don’t tolerate the unknown or ambiguity very well. We would probably feel much more at ease if we knew we could control all of our experiences. However, for most things in life…we don’t have control. If that makes you anxious, stay with me here…

I’ve lived over three decades anxious about the unknown. As a child, I feared the sudden death of my parents. Why? Because they were my safe space (still are). They provided certainty, and a controlled environment. When I was engaged to my (now) husband, I had horrific anxiety over him dying as well (yeah, I know…total buzzkill.). Self-disclosure: I had a total meltdown days before our wedding, because I figured that, statistically, I would experience his death before he experienced mine, and I couldn’t fathom that pain. When we talked about kids, guess what I feared? Yup! The death of a child. At first, I didn’t want to have kids, because the fear of losing a child was THAT strong for me. Spoiler alert: I have two kids, and so far so good.

Are the fears gone now? Hell no. They are still loud and clear.

So, what’s different now?

Purpose. I’ve made seeking purpose a regular part of my life. I’ve literally taken one of the most internally controllable variables, and turned it into something to help me feel more in control of the…well..uncontrollable.

This isn’t anything new, folks. It happens around us all the time. Many parents who lost children in the Sandy Hook tragedy have taken their pain and developed a purpose. Whether it was spearheading the building of a new playground in memoriam of the children lost, or kindness programs being rolled out in schools across the country – the underlying theme? PURPOSE.

I consistently work (definitive word being WORK) to find purpose in whatever pain I’m experiencing. When I was struggling with Motherhood, I created a Facebook group for Moms that was solely based on off-colored, sarcastic, inappropriate memes about being a Mom. I have close to 1,000 members in that group now, and have developed amazing friendships. I also offered an in-person Mom guilt workshop that I am now in the process of making available online. When I recently found myself sitting in immense anxiety during quarantine, I started doing live shows on Facebook about any and all topics having to do with mental health and sexuality. I’ve discovered that the most effective way for me to heal myself, is by helping to heal others.

I know this time is surreal. I know it can feel like it’s never ending. It’s also a great time to use your uncomfortable feelings and direct that energy towards a purpose. Remember, you can have a million different purposes throughout your life depending on where your pain is coming from. When we find purpose in our pain, we remove ourselves from the victim’s seat, and become the victor. Our pain doesn’t have to be some empty dark hole that we continue to fall into. By finding purpose, we can propel through the pain.

The moral of the story is this: Finding purpose in pain allows us to be in the driver’s seat of our healing process. We may not always know what lies ahead, but seek solace in the fact that our hands are always the ones on the wheel. <3

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The Other Side of Anxiety: What ALSO is…

When the outside world seems so uncertain, anxiety rears its ugly head. For those who already have underlying struggles with anxiety, it seems almost unmanageable. I wish I could say you’re the only one. I wish I could say I don’t know how you feel. Both would be a lie.

Living my entire life with OCD (which is usually accompanied by anxiety), I’ve learned coping strategies when times like these hit. No, it’s not easy. No, it isn’t a one size fits all. However, there’s a common denominator amongst us anxiety warriors. We focus on the WHAT IF, and only ONE SIDE of the WHAT IS. But what about the “other side”? The what ALSO IS. Allow me to explain…

Given the current emotional chaos that COVID-19 has caused, let’s use it as my first example. This may trigger anxiety, but try to trust me with where I’m going with it. For many of us, we’re afraid that we might get the virus, and furthermore…die from it. We’re afraid for our loved ones getting sick as well. Understandable? Of course. Because of our anxiety, we are focusing on the WHAT IF, and ONE SIDE of the WHAT IS that exists – people are getting sick and, yes, some are dying.

You want to know what ALSO is?

I have an extended family member (that I am not living with) that tested positive for COVID-19. Guess what? She’s alive, and on her way to recovery – as are many others. As I write this article, there are a total of 103,321 cases in the US, and 1,668 deaths (CDC.gov). So, clearly there are many infected who are also surviving the virus. Anxiety doesn’t want to focus on that, because it doesn’t affirm our fears – and that’s how anxiety thrives. So, it’s critical to not leave out the “What ALSO is”.

Now, let’s talk cancer – another fear of many. Self disclosure – it’s one of my triggers. My anxiety focuses on death, chemo, side effects, financial stress of being out of work, etc. Is any of that valid? Yup! But you know what ALSO IS? The fact that I have several friends and family members who have cancer, and are functioning. I know people who have gone through chemo, and somehow managed to ALSO get through their days – some even stayed at work. Most of those who I know who have had cancer, survived it and are still cancer-free. Anxiety won’t focus on that, though. It’s not scary enough. I mean, how can our brains protect us from what COULD happen, if we are only focusing on what actually IS happening? (rhetorical and massively sarcastic).

How about body image? So many of us have a fear of being viewed as unattractive if we don’t have that Instagram body. We look at cellulite, loose skin, stretch marks, and a lack of abs as if we’re automatically off the market for being attractive. Are there people who are not attracted to those things? Sure! You know what ALSO IS? There’s a gazillion different body types, and miraculously most of us are found to be desirable by someone else – even if we never know about it. But again, anxiety isn’t interested in focusing on what brings us peace – only what creates an utter mind fuck. Am I right?

We get it, anxiety – bad things can happen. Thanks for the heads up (eye roll). It’s human nature to fear the worst. However, I’ve learned that most of the time it’s more of a protective measure, than a productive one. So, even when all of this blows over…and it will…try to remember that there will always be a “What ALSO is”, and it deserves just as much, if not more, attention than anything else.