As a child growing up in Detroit, the strongest sensory memory I have about my dad the police officer is a smell.
Dad made the coffee every morning, or at least he did after he complained to Mom that it wasn’t ever quite strong enough. The smell of his coffee woke me up before anyone or anything else in the family.
My mom, who is now 92 years old, has lost her “smeller,” and so the very thing we both treasure drifts right by her unnoticed.
This is a fairly new MacBook, and I love it, but I’m not sure yet how to add pics and banners. Please be patient while I figure it out. đ
For this month’s A-Z challenge, my theme was going to be Coffee and Courage. It was meant to be sort of a doubleheader. Along with something alphabetically exciting about coffee, I was going to post it each day in April from a different coffee shop in southeastern Michigan.
Courage is needed because I have generalized anxiety disorder among other phobias that I’ve allowed to take up too much space in my 57-year life. Going to a different place (going anyplace) each day is bold, even for me.
With the Coronavirus making life a bit difficult, plans are uncertain. My brother and his family live in Ohio, and they’ve closed all the restaurants. It’s hitting us where we live, in more ways than one. I live with my mother, who will be 93 years old this year. Carefulness is a priority.
If restaurants/coffee shops are closed, then the blog will only be about coffee a-z. If the cafes do close and are only closed for part of the month, I’ll start my diner to diner adventure as soon as feasible.
Good luck everyone. Don’t  be scared, just be careful.
My sister’s three children, who are grown adults now — the eldest is forty, and the younger two are in their late thirties — like to blame her for the way their lives are now, drawing on countless stories of a “horrific” childhood raised by a sometimes absent practicing alcoholic. This is always heartbreaking for Carol but she has learned to say “Goodbye, I’m hanging up now,” when it gets redundant and too difficult. I’m sure their childhoods were indeed difficult, but at what point does one say, “What’s happening in my life now is up to me. These are my choices. No one else is responsible and no one can change those choices except me.”
It’s easier to blame, though. It hurts less, and pointing that sharp finger at ourselves takes blind courage. I know, because for years I went to Al-Anon meetings missing the point. I talked about the alcoholics in my life: my dad and my sister, and how they had wronged me; how screwed up my life was now because of them. Sound familiar? đ I reasoned that since Carol had started drinking when she was 16 and I was an impressionable three, my childhood was essentially taken away from me. I vacillated between the placater/pleaser and the lost child/adjuster in Claudia Black’s family roles For those of you from alcoholic families, which role(s) did you play?
Naturally, I felt tons of victimization in these roles, and I played it to the hilt. Poor me, poor me, I cried at the meetings, and — I love them so much — no one at those meetings ever once stopped me, trusting the process.
It has taken years, and I mean years, for me to get to the place where I can sit down at an Al-Anon meeting and know I’m going to talk about some facet of my life that I need help with. Because that’s what it’s all about. Al-Anon is for me. AA is for the alcoholic.
Not that I still don’t play the blame game every now and then. Who doesn’t? It’s like something that almost rolls off my tongue and I have to consciously stop myself. Oh wait —noooo, what happened was my own choice! đ
Acceptance is a difficult concept to deal with, even if we’re not talking about alcoholism. None of us wants to be unacceptable, or excluded from a group, whether we’re small children, adolescents, or older adults. The synonyms for acceptance are many, among them approval and recognition.
I know a young woman who is gay. She has found a woman she loves, is very happy, and engaged to be married. Most people she knows are very happy for her happiness, but not all are as accepting. Some are even judgmental, saying she and her partner would always be welcome in their home, but they would never attend her wedding. This makes no sense to me, and seems more than a little hypocritical. If you accept the fact that someone is gay, you recognize it, you approve of the lifestyle she/he has chosen.
With my sister, it’s different, but somewhat the same. She’s been sober for a while now, and attended several family gatherings as a sober alcoholic. I don’t drink often, mostly at major holidays, like Thanksgiving and Christmas. In fact, my mom laughs at me, because I will see a drink recipe shown on The Chew or something, get all excited about it, buy all the ingredients, bring them home, and then the liquor sits in our cupboards, because I’ve immediately lost interest. :P)
Back to my sister. I never used to drink around her. I thought it was a sign of solidarity if I joined her in not drinking. Recently, I’ve realized it was actually codependency, and I was not allowing her a sense of self-esteem, and achievement all her own. She’s very capable, and strong in her own right. But I’m sure she feels that exclusion, that non-acceptance among non-alcoholics, even though she’s accepted by her recovering alcoholic friends. I still laugh when I remember going with her to an open talk AA meeting at Sacred Heart in downtown Detroit. I was so nervous I wouldn’t even smoke, even though I badly wanted a cigarette. One of her friends finally leaned over to me and said, “So, do you have any vices?”
“And acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing, or situation — some fact of my life — unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing, or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment.” (Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 417)
In retrospect, this month-long challenge was good for me. I can still say that, even after the whining, complaining, staying up at night thinking about topics, taking forever to write, obsessing, worrying, and stressing so much that I made myself ill. I loved every haphazard minute of it. You bet I did.
But it all starts out the same way. It’s like “Oh, a challenge! Shiny, Shiny!” And then after a few days it dawns on me that this is a daily ritual and I made a commitment and all those other big scary words most adults should never have to hear in their lifetimes. See, I’m not good at commitment. I like to make a big splash in the pool, then grab my towel and walk away.  I’m a good starter, so I need other people around me who like to finish. You know?
But I found that there were a few deeply disturbed individuals following my blog posts whom I simply did not want to let down. đ The more they stayed with me, the more it made me want to complete the challenge. I learned that I indeed had the stamina within me to complete things. I had completed NaNoWriMo twice before. But it seemed much harder to show up for a blog post every day of the week except Sundays. It says to your readers: You matter to me. I care about you, and I’m here.Â
And of course I learned even more about anxiety, which never hurts. đ
This is a bonus post for the month. My schedule, as you know, is normally M, W, F, and Sun. But the Powers That Be, this was important to them. And helpful for us as well, I think.
Have a fantastic day!
Ciao, Bella.
I don’t like the word zany as it applies to mentally ill or anxious people. It’s the same as saying “crazy,” and it’s placing a stigma on a population that has enough to deal with on a day-to-day basis. I’m not even sure I like “mentally ill.”
Sure, I have three separate anxiety problems, and bipolar disorder, but does that make me mentally ill? Does someone with diabetes say that she is physically ill? Of course not. She has a problem with her sugar, and she’s hopefully taking care of it.
We all of us exhibit crazy behaviors now and then. None of us are immune. Shouting at someone who cuts us off in traffic is not exactly normal. Talking to the driver in front of you (come on, I know you’ve done it, so have I) when you know s/he can’t hear you, is pretty crazy behavior. Once, when I still had borderline personality disorder (I have since aged out of it, thank God) I laid down in front of my niece’s car because we were in the middle of an argument, she was trying to leave, and I didn’t want her to. I’m still that way, needing to resolve things, but I don’t lie down in front of peoples’ cars any longer. lol That’s crazy.
Today, let’s remember to use the words “zany” and “crazy” judiciously, when talking about events and things, rather than people. It will go a long way toward reducing stigma in the world at large.
Well, everyone, that’s the end of the alphabet. I have thoroughly enjoyed my time with you, and hope you have the same. Stay tuned for Mental Health Month in May, where anything can happen and we aren’t constrained by the letters of the alphabet!
Ciao, Bella.
Although we’ve talked a lot about living in the present moment, the fact is most people with anxiety either live in the future or, more likely, in the past. The future living sounds more like a lot of “What-ifs,” and can get very scary very quickly.
Living in yesterday sounds like this: I know I hurt my friend’s feelings when I said that that particular way. She seemed funny after that. It couldn’t have been just because she was dealing with her own issues. I know it was my fault.
Or: I looked so stupid buying groceries yesterday. I’m sure everyone could tell my hands were shaking when I was trying to get the correct change. I didn’t even say thank you or good bye because I was afraid I might break out in tears, for crying out loud. What’s wrong with me? I’m such a spaz and an idiot!
Yet again: Why did I tell my mom I would pick up her meds at the store for her? It’s been really hard for me to leave the house at all lately. Twice I tried yesterday. I got all the way to the parking lot of the store, the first time, but I couldn’t get out of the car. The second time I only made it into my car in the garage, but I couldn’t back out. I am such a loser!
These are all examples of distorted thoughts brought on by panic and anxiety. They can easily be changed by different, more rational, compassionate thinking.
Once the thinking is changed, staying in the moment is so important.
Have a terrific day! I’m going to lunch with my friend Molly!
Ciao, Bella.
Today is brought to you by the letter “X.” Your first instinct, when you hear about today’s subject matter, might be to laugh, but I urge you not to. It’s a very serious matter, and I think, if we suffered with it, we would not be laughing, not one bit.
Xanthophobia is an intense, irrational fear of the color yellow. It is very real to the person or persons impacted by this phobia. Taken to its extreme, the xanthophobic person may even feel an overwhelming fear of the very word yellow. Xanthophobia comes from the Greek word “Xanthous”, meaning yellow and “phobos” which means fear.
Just like all fears and phobias, xanthophobia is created by unconscious thoughts as protection. At some point in the person’s past, something probably happened bringing together the color or word yellow and emotional trauma, like PTSD. This might have been a real life scare, but this condition can also be triggered by movies, TV, or seeing someone else experience trauma. The person attaches negative feelings to any situation where the color or word yellow is present, and therefore xanthophobia is born.
I really understand this. I have a thing about escalators (I’m sure there’s a name for that particular phobia). I will avoid them whenever possible. When it’s not possible, it takes me about a half hour to make myself step on. But think about it. They’re actually dangerous. People have been hurt on them before. They’re not very safe. Some people walk up them instead of holding still, so they’re inconsistent. I like things to be the same, all the time. But that’s just me, and we all know I’m a little crazy. lol
Have a great evening. Next month is Mental Health Month, and I’m already planning some of my blog posts!
Ciao, Bella.
“Don’t worry about the world coming to an end today. It is already tomorrow in Australia.” –Charles Schulz
Charles Schulz is great. My dad was a cop, and he had a cop friend who was friend who was friends with Schulz, so for Halloween, instead of passing out candy, my older brother and I would pass out old comic books with the covers torn off. Of course, we always sat around and read them first. It was a sheer blast. I related to both Charlie Brown (with all his worrying) and Linus (with his security blanket–I had one until I was like six lol).
Despite what my mom says about worry being like a rocking chair and therefore useless, I’m a worrier. From the time I wake up until the time I go to sleep I’m worried about something. And truthfully, if I don’t have something real to worry about, I imagine a “what if” scenario, because I guess I’m just a worry junkie. Now that’s just sick, right? Because who would want to be worrying all the time? Because let’s face it. Too much worry leads to anxiety, and nobody likes anxiety, not even me.
Worry works like this. Imagine you’re walking along a cliff. Your mind might think, “I might fall.” That’s helpful, because it keeps you careful, a thought like that. But, if you’re hiking along the same cliff and your anxiety is high, instead of thinking “I might fall,” you might think “I will fall.” We experience the thought as reality, almost inevitability.
There are ways to reduce worry thoughts, like letting go of control, and staying in the present moment.
So sorry again that this is so late. You only have to put up with me a few more days!
Ciao, Bella.
When I saw my therapist Wednesday he gave me a homework assignment. He even wrote it down, because otherwise, it would have gone right out of my head.
“Challenge absolute thoughts (All or Nothing thinking). Find 15 cliches that relate to adapting to uncomfortable situations. Practice squared breathing exercise three times per week.”
I’m not saying the assignment is stupid. It’s very worthwhile, actually. It’s just that I have so  much going on right now. Does he not realize that? The A-Z challenge goes until next Thursday (I think), I’m crocheting one very large granny square per day for a blanket I’m trying to complete, and I just had the piano tuned so I could learn “Joy” and “Thanksgiving,” two George Winston songs, for my mom’s 88th birthday in October–it’s been at least 20 years since I played the piano, so it will take a lot of work. That’s not nothing. And let’s not forget Lucy, who needs to go out and potty what seems like every 15 minutes. We don’t have a fenced in backyard, so I need to literally take her out on a leash.
There. I just vented. I don’t do it often on my blog, because what I try to do here is help other people, and it doesn’t help you to know about my troubles. But once in a while, venting helps, because people can relate. It’s certainly better to talk about negative emotions, properly, than leave them bottled up inside. If we vent to someone who genuinely cares about us, it can make us feel better. Sometimes we may need a second ear to make sure we heard what we think we heard right. Venting instead of directly confronting the source of our frustrations is a much safer bet.
I hope you have a grand day, and don’t  be too shocked this is so early! ha ha
Ciao Bella.
Dear Loved One,
It’s me, your (wife, daughter, sister, friend, girlfriend). I know it’s been really hard lately, watching my meltdowns. I don’t think I could be in your position, witnessing panic attack after panic attack, and an overall highly anxious state. It must be utter hell.
Now imagine what it’s like to live through it. It’s worse than hell. It’s like being promised heaven, having it dangled in front of you like a carrot, and then snatched away at the last minute. You know how when your foot falls asleep and it feels like pins and needles when it wakes up? Having anxiety feels like your whole body is on pins and needles all the time.
I love you so much, but it doesn’t help me when you say “It’s going to be okay,” or “It’s fine.” Those are like empty words and they make things worse instead of better. When I’m in a dark place, I want you to climb in there with me, put your arms around me and say, “Here I am. I’m in the darkness with you..”
When you don’t know what to do, don’t improvise or make something up. Tell me, “I don’t know what to do. What can I do?” That helps more than you know.
Just be here. Just love me. Just sit next to me and be my reality. You know and I know it’s not always this bad. We’ll weather this storm.
The Anxious One
Therapy can be a very helpful tool to get one from “here” to where they want to be. So much depends on the therapist, and the relationship between client and therapist. There are as many different kinds of therapies as there are grains of sand on the beach, literally. I was going to introduce them all here, but I went on Wikipedia, and they were actually alphabetized, there were too many for me to count.
When choosing a psychotherapist, there are some important things to keep in mind. Like the fact that a therapist can be a social worker, a psychiatrist, a psychologist, or someone with religious training. It’s good to ask a person’s credentials (or at least ask for a card) before you get too involved with them.
There are other good questions I always wish I would ask before I got too deeply sucked into a therapeutic relationship. lol Maybe next time. They are:
What theories do you use? Why?
(You’re asking because you want to know why they think it’s effective, not what they personally like)
There are many new techniques and ideas, how do you stay on top of all of it? Â (look for “attend training, conferences, reading”)
I’ve read that [X THERAPY YOU ARE NOT PLANNING TO USE] is sometimes used with [PROBLEM I HAVE], what are you thoughts about this?
What role do you think medication plays in mental health?
(You’re looking for an answer like “it depends”. Some psychiatrists think “non-compliance” to medication regimens is like total rebellion)
I know everyone is different, but what is the time-range for this therapy to show some progress?
Have you treated anyone with issues like mine? What was the outcome? What was the likely cause of that success/failure?
How will we measure progress?
When do you start thinking about termination (ending the relationship), and what will that look like?
(e.g. will it be a shared decision, is there a set number of visits and then review etc).
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As for anxiety, CBT therapy is purported to be the most helpful. CBT is cognitive-behavioral therapy.
Personally, as someone who has gone through and is going through CBT, I detest it. I hate, hate, hate it. I find it tedious and time-consuming. But *sigh* that’s just me.
Have a wonderful evening, my friends.
Ciao, Bella.
The first time I ever learned a relaxation technique I was in a psychiatric hospital. This must have  been, ooooh at least twenty years ago now.
Doug, who was the Activity Therapist, had us all go into a quiet, dark, room (he had turned off the lights), grab a floor mat, and find a space on the carpeted floor. It’s weird, remembering it now. Some of us lay on our tummies, some on our backs, our sides with our knees pulled up. All the while, Doug just said to get comfortable.
Then he told us to close our eyes and quiet our breathing as much as we could. He put on a tape. I still remember it to this day. It was about walking down a staircase, and the further down you went, the more relaxed you felt. Until, at the very end of the stairs we came out into this gorgeous meadow of flowers.
When it was over, I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to open my eyes, and I certainly didn’t want to come back to the “real world.” Happily, Doug gave us each copies of that tape.
Relaxation is so very important for anxiety, and especially helpful to panic attacks.
Well, I don’t think it’s any secret that I have social anxiety disorder. I’ve shared my problems with just going out to get the mail during daylight hours, and that’s purely about being judged and found wanting. It’s a deep-seated fear; I don’t know exactly when it began or how it got so big. I only know I wish it would go away.
I usually avoid situations that I find too incredibly difficult. I learned this as a young child, when I would hide in my bedroom during large family gatherings, like Thanksgiving, or Christmas. It didn’t always work, but sometimes it did.
Today I do little experiments. I started the crochet meetup. It failed miserably. Groups like that don’t work if no one shows up ha ha ha. But I did take a chance, and I put myself out there. I do other things, like once I went to Panera and sat in one of their comfortable chairs and just crocheted for a while. Of course, all the while, my mind was going 90 to nothin’. “Is that man looking at me? Why is he looking at me that way? People do needlework in Panera all the time. This is not that unusual. Do I have something on my shirt? If I move now, and look down at my shirt, surely I will look like a total idiot. Stay calm. Maybe he’s not looking at me. Maybe he’s looking in my general direction and it just feels like he’s looking at me.”
You can see how it can get pretty exhausting. And that was just one person.
Hope you have a great rest of the day.
Ciao, Bella.
Often, medications have side effects which include shakiness. But mostly, if we have anxiety, shakiness at one time or another, sort of comes with the territory. Either our hands can shake, our voices, or both, or our whole bodies can tremble if we’re very afraid.
It’s actually extremely common, and the only way to stop it is to deal with the anxiety beforehand. If you’re already anxious and trying to prevent shaking hands, it’s too late; kinda like closing the barn door after the cows get out.
There are different types of shaking. There may be more, but these are the ones I know:
In the times that I’ve been anxious and felt my hands begin to tremble, nothing has calmed them sooner than cuddling with my Lucy dog or holding a baby. What is it about that?
Well, I did not mean to get so long-winded! Shush me much more quickly next time! đ
I will see you tomorrow. Be good to yourselves. đ
Ciao, Bella.
Well, I did manage to bring in the mail during the day yesterday and, as always happens, by the time I got back in the house my heart was pounding, I was sweating, I could barely catch my breath, and I had to sit on the stairs before I could take the mail either up or down (we live in a bi-level).
So, before I could celebrate that I had achieved something which was a 9 (on a scale of 1-10) on my Fear Ladder, I needed to calm myself down. I did something my therapist had taught me. I placed my right hand on my chest, my left on my stomach, and began to do my best to take deep breaths in through my nose, and out through my mouth, then eventually out through my nose as well. I kept my eyes open the whole time, so that every time I caught my chest rising when I breathed in instead of my stomach, I had to change that. I thought about how babies breathe. They’re such belly breathers! Not a care in the world as they lie on their backs wherever they are, breathing in and pushing that belly out. When we sleep at night, we’re belly breathers. We’ve just forgotten this in our hell fire hurry to get things done.
Let’s belly breathe more often. I’ll sure remember it, next time I get in a tight spot.
This is the entirety of my Fear Ladder. As you can see, it’s written for, and leading up to, a very specific reason:
3 Imagining walking the dog
3.5 Draw self walking dog
4 Look at pictures of lots of people outside
4.5 Watch video of someone walking outside
4.5 Ask for help in a store
4.5 Buy jeans
5 Putting gas in car
5 Walk with someone in a private area
5 Answering the phone
5 Driving in the car
5 Ask for directions
6 Walking into unfamiliar store or business
7 Walk with someone in public
7 Sit outside reading a book and smoking
8 Watch video of someone else with social anxiety disorder
8 Stand outside, look around
8 Taking garbage out
8 Walk with Lucy to the mailbox
9 Walk alone to the mailbox
9 Walk dog around the block
9 Walk down Meadowbrook with Lucy
Hmm. It occurs to me that I’m opening myself up for lots of ridicule by being so vulnerable and, well, open about myself. But I couldn’t think of a better example about panic disorder that didn’t sound straight out of a textbook.
So there you have it!
Ciao, Bella.
Most people, when they think of OCD, imagine the comedic detective, Monk. While he shows some of the fears, obsessions and compulsions that may indeed be typical, I think it’s mainly a caricature. It was still a wonderful way for people to be exposed to this particular illness.
The obsessive part of OCD symptoms usually includes: fear of contamination, having things in order or symmetrical, strong or horrible thoughts about harming yourself or someone else, and unwanted thoughts, especially sexual.
The compulsive part of OCD symptoms usually includes: washing or cleaning, counting, checking, asking for reassurances, following a strict routine, and being very orderly.
The two main treatments for OCD are psychotherapy and medications. Obviously, the best treatment would be a combination of the two.
I have never heard it called this, but ERP (Exposure and Response Prevention) therapy is supposed to be the most effective treatment. It involves gradually exposing the person to the feared object (dirt, etc.) and talking about whatever comes up as you go; being in the anxiety and not running away.
Deep Brain Stimulation (DBS) has also been suggested for individuals who don’t respond well to either psychotherapy or medications. People should be warned it hasn’t been thoroughly tested.
Coping with OCD can be difficult. There are things we can do to help us get through, such as: join a support group, find a healthy outlet (like a hobby), or learn relaxation and stress management.
Hope this was helpful. Have a wonderful Friday!!
Ciao, Bella.
Welcome to the letter “N.” It might be easy to smile or, even, laugh at the picture I’ve included with today’s post of Will Smith from MIB holding a neutralizer. But–picture this. There you are, stuck in a panic-anxiety cycle, with no clear end in sight. Along comes handsome, sexy, Will. He flashes his neutralizer at you and suddenly you’re perfectly fine. In fact, you can’t even remember what it was you were so anxious about! Because that’s what the neutralizer does, right? It zaps your memory. I think that would be incredibly clever.
In a way, outside of the fantasy/movie world, neutralizers aren’t really very different at all. Three examples of anxiety neutralizers are:
1. Understanding. This includes both understanding oneself and being understood by others. How is this a neutralizer? The more we understand ourselves, the more we get to know our personalities, our core values, our bodies, our dreams, our likes and dislikes—the more compassion we will have for ourselves, and the more absolute ability we will have to come against fear. Or so I’m told. đ And, I don’t think I need to explain how much it matters when others understand us. We all know what it means when they don’t, right? So just imagine the opposite of that.
2. Fun. The extreme importance of fun is not lost on me. I surely don’t have enough of it. Lord, my mother is always telling me I’d be prettier if I’d only smile more often. I think we’re all so serious because–well anxiety is a serious business, and we spend half our lives looking over our shoulders to see where the next shock is going to come from. But you know what? Let’s not. Let’s not do that. Let’s pretend we all live in a Disney movie. One of the old ones from when Walt was still alive; an animated one, like Cinderella. You know, she comes from a bad situation but she gets out of it and she marries a prince. Right? Not too shabby! I wouldn’t mind that. Try to have some fun. Don’t be afraid to look a little stupid. Hell, I look stupid all the time. đ
3. Mindfulness. One of the biggest problems with anxious worriers is they spend half their time obsessing about something that happened yesterday, which they can’t change, or panicking about tomorrow, which hasn’t come yet. Mindfulness teaches us to focus on right here, right now, this moment. There is no other.
This was a little longer than I wanted it to be, but I tried to say it as succinctly as possible. I hope you found it helpful. Again, sorry for the tardiness. We were out of internet all day and, while I could have gone to Panera or something, I needed to stay for the Brighthouse guy because my mom wasn’t sure what to tell them.
Ciao, Bella. You all brighten my days so much. đ
P.S. I got the mail during the day twice this week and if I do it again tomorrow that’ll make three times!
`
P.S. Youâre not going to die. Hereâs the white-hot truth: if you go bankrupt, youâll still be okay. If you lose the gig, the lover, the house, youâll still be okay. If you sing off-key, get beat by the competition, have your heart shattered, get firedâŚitâs not going to kill you. Ask anyone whoâs been through it. —Daneille LaPorte
Well, it turns out I’m not the best sort of person to do this sort of thing—-the A-Z Blog Challenge. See, besides writing the blog post itself, we’re supposed to comment on each other’s blogs. But I can barely keep up with posting every day. It hasn’t become a habit yet. Who knew? Well, all I can do is my best, you know?
As I was reading through the articles I had marked about managing the symptoms of anxiety, I just got overwhelmed and all of it started to not make any sense at all. So I thought, what the hell? I’ll just write down what I do to try and manage my own anxiety. That way, after you read it and it makes no sense to you, you can substitute in what you do! Ha ha ha.
Remember to breathe. The first thing that happens to me when I get anxious is I forget to breathe or I start to breathe really shallowly, which amounts to the same thing. So, I have to actually remind myself.
If I’m feeling worried/bad/sad/mad/frustrated, change the thought. Works every time. Change how I’m thinking, and I’ll feel differently.
Crochet/meditate through the problem. The repetitive nature of crochet lends itself to meditation very easily. While I’m crocheting I can think through a difficulty, or–better yet–let my mind empty itself and sort of rest.
Relaxation. I usually do deep breathing while I sit in a comfortable chair, eyes closed, but I breathe differently than most people tell us to. I breathe in through my nose (through the diaphragm) and back out through the nose (not the mouth).
Reading. This is just a really fun escape, because it takes me so far away from anything and anywhere I was before I started reading. It’s tough to be anxious when you’re in the middle of a thriller or a romance. Really. Try it.
Color-by-Number and Dot-to-Dot. I went to a Michael’s art store and found these intensely intricate adult color-by-number and dot-to-dot books. Except I’m too intimidated to start them, because I’m a perfectionist and I don’t want to make a mistake. LOL! How insane is that?!
Television. It goes under the escapist column, but it’s also very educational. I learn how other people act in similar situations, too. And we got the Amazon Fire Stick recently, so have been stuck on Mad Men (we’re on Season 4–there are I guess 7 seasons), for real.
Doing my best. It’s all I can do. It’s all any of us can do. 
Today’s post is brought to you by the letters “K” and “L.” Please forgive yesterday’s lapse; it was not a good day for me. As described in Definitions.com, keenness’ 3rd definition is: “characterized by strength and distinctness of perception; extremely sensitive or responsive.” I think again, we see the double-edged sword, where perception and sensitivity can be either a strength or a hindrance when taken to the extreme.Â
I think if we dig hard enough, we can see that that’s true. It’s very true for me, I know that much. My sensitivity allows me to know when someone is feeling upset or out of sorts, or maybe carrying a secret–bursting at the seams with it, and yet this same sensitivity can be  downright agony when I allow it to go to the extreme. I get my feelings hurt so easily, my heart is broken time and time again, and I’m devastated when I’ve taken things too personally (thought people were talking about me), because, you know, it’s always about me. Not.
There are ways to overcome our sensitivity. I gathered up my research and decided on the best things that would help. Here they are:
1. Admit you have a problem. Until you admit you’re overly sensitive, you can’t change.
2. Explore your sensitivity. Ask yourself questions, like are you sensitive to a particular person or a group of people?
3. Look for a particular trigger for your sensitivity, like an image, color, scent, sound, or sensation.
4. Take your time. Be sure to go over the exploration and trigger steps as many times as you need to until you have a complete understanding of your sensitivity.
5. Be brave and start to unpack the sensitivity. Study it compassionately. Admit that you don’t find that this particular sensitivity helps you, each time it comes up.
6. Build strength. Finally, you will just “know” sensitivity for what it is whenever it comes up. You’ll be reminded that you have no interest in being that way and you can let it go quickly without becoming upset.
It seems just a few days ago we were talking about how anxiety was hardwired. Now we’re going to a whole different perspective, which says that being anxious is a learned behavior. In fact, this article is so interesting that I’m just going to include the link so you can read it for yourself:Â Unhealthy behaviors cause anxiety disorder, not genes. Â The basic idea is that anxiety is learned, and that, if so, it can be unlearned through various techniques. I’d be interested in your thoughts after reading the article.
Well, I know the “L” post is especially short, but I don’t want to go on any further. I believe I’ve given you enough to think about, especially if you read that article.
Have a great day/evening!
Ciao, bella.
Nothing is permanent in this wicked worldânot even our troubles. –Charlie Chaplin
is for judgment, or lack thereof, when it comes to being anxious. I know that when I’m anxious, it gets harder to judge the looks
on peoples’ faces, or their body language. It’s easier to take things personally, as an attack. My judgment is all askew, and it’s like I forget that people are basically there for me; they wouldn’t purposefully hurt me if they could help it.
Anxiety hinders our judgment  by interfering with our concentration, causing us to miss cues or hurry to a wrongful assessment. We’ve all made decisions in life we wish we could take back. For the anxious person, these times come along more than the average.
Here’s to a wonderful, anxiety-free day!
Ciao, bella.
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