As one who has always been the strong one, who has had her shit together, and has been able to graze through challenging circumstances with ease, I felt like my entire perception of who I came crumbling down. While sitting on a comfortable brown couch in the therapist’s office, I recalled the stories I had told a thousand times. Somewhat disengaged from the reality of the events, like telling a recited story from a book. A book that I had opened the cover of whenever I needed to share about my childhood or was asked questions about my experiences growing up. How did I end up here, talking to a therapist about my life, my childhood, my future dreams, and my goals?
A few weeks prior, a colleague and I talked after hours, recalling tales of struggle and growth. I have always admired her grace and visible connection with the space around her. As we had an actual conversation diving deep into our stories, I began sharing my unpredictable stomach issues and the challenges that I had faced when she asked me if there was a correlation between my stomach issues and some of the trauma I had faced as a child. I had not ever read or heard about ‘Somatic’ connections or therapies, and to be honest, there was probably a lot of eye-rolling on my part, quite a bit of the snarky face I make when I am contemplating the other person’s level of sanity. However, the part of me that usually runs from ‘hippie-dippie’ things was quite fascinated by the extent to which my colleague shared her significant other’s success with similar issues. She challenged me to make an appointment and attend 3 times. If I didn’t like it, didn’t see results, or for whatever other reason, I could stop after 3 appointments. As one who is always up for a challenge, I took the bait.
For my first appointment, I got to spend the whole hour talking about my favorite thing, myself. Sharing where I am in life, my spouse, my children, my health challenges, some of my childhood, and my ultimate goal – to increase my quality of life and decrease my symptoms for good. She calmly listened and took notes, and as always, I opened the book cover and began to flip the pages. Reciting the stories I have told others, a retelling of my memories in foster care, in courthouses, random memories that are not pieced together coherently. As my stories poured out of me, I continued to remain composed and shared my mantra that these stories are just part of who I am but that I am not a victim of my past. She continued to listen and asked me about my random anxiety issues and the panic attacks I listed on the intake sheet.
The first time I felt my chest tighten, I thought I had a heart attack. I had walked into Target after landing from a teacher travel day. I just needed to grab something, which is the phrase everyone says as they walk into Target. As I walked down the central aisle, I could feel my chest tighten up, I struggled to take a deep breath, and I felt like I needed to go back to the car. As I hustled to the car, I took my bra off, using the classic pull-through armhole method, and began to feel the tightening in my chest loosen. I took a few forced deep breaths and calmed myself. I tried to silence the thoughts rushing through my head that I had a heart attack, something was wrong, and the general stress of freaking out in Target. As I shared this with my therapist, she simply nodded and took notes. When I explained that this has only happened in Target and that I have no idea why. When I walk around the main corner, and there is a crowd of people filling the entire aisle, I get really anxious. I cannot make it to the back of the store without getting nervous and wanting to leave or go to the bathroom.
This then leads to a discussion on my bathroom practices. I shared with her that I have a lot of anxiety about my body’s inability to hold it physically. I continued to turn the pages to my story and share that I have used strangers’ bathrooms, had accidents at work, doctor’s offices, and in the car, and have a bit of an OCD tendency when it is time to leave the house. As I continued to unpack these practices, sharing the fact that when I leave the house I often drive directly across the street to a park restroom. Other times I have to tell myself that I only have 10 minutes to get to work. I will force myself to drive to work, counting the minutes to let myself know I am getting closer to the next bathroom. I shared that I want to be adventurous and spontaneous with my family, go on hikes, travel, and see things. My anxiety when we go places without a restroom is a bit unbearable and often causes me to use the bathroom several times before we can leave the house. This whole process and anxiety have significantly impacted my quality of life and the life I want to live with my family.
We then talked about meditation and breathing and all things hippie-dippie. She shared the science behind breathing practices and how it changes the hypothalamus and allows your body to relax. Apparently, breathing deeply activates the hypothalamus, which connects the nervous system to the endocrine system, which controls and regulates hormonal activity. So she taught me an exercise to try my anxiety triggers anytime I feel the need to go to the bathroom a million times. I told her that I didn’t think it would work and that I didn’t believe in this weird breathing and meditation. Then I left the office, and that was the end of my first visit.
So did it work?
Three months later and I have surpassed the obligated 3 visits to see if it will make a difference before I stop going. I now meditate daily for at least 10 minutes. Sometimes 30. I have several breathing pattern exercises that I do when I start to feel anxious, or my stomach gets grumpy with me. Then, 3 times out of 5, I can leave the house and head directly to the designation, not my ‘favorite’ bathroom across the street. I realized that the stories that I kept in their own book and could quickly flip through without really showing empathy or connecting with the experience are a huge part of my story and have impacted me in more ways than one. Owning the knowledge, emotions, and memories is the only way to get through the pain, which, apparently, your stomach is where your body holds trauma. Crazy weird hippie-dippie stuff that I still tell her in our regular session that I don’t even buy into but it works. I have been hypnotized several times to help build connections between my scattered memories. I have put together pieces and still have so much left undiscovered, and I have so many questions.
I feel more whole. I feel connected to myself right now at this moment. Not my past, not what might happen in the future, but right now in the present moment. I am able to love deeper, connect freely, and really appreciate this moment in life. My therapist commented in our last session that I seem brighter, that I seem more balanced. I told her that I am not trying to escape my past, to escape the crazy, to keep that book on the shelf. Instead, I know that each piece of that story has aligned with my physical being and that I can heal the wounds through this healing practice.
So the story continues … thank you to my colleague for helping me push beyond my boundaries to step into this world of hippie-dippie stuff. To challenge myself to attend at least 3 appointments to see the potential that I have to be more balanced.
2022 Update: As the pandemic hit and we all switched to zoom for our counseling sessions and meetings I did taper off my time with my therapist; however, the skills and tools that she provided me and the amount of work that I was able to vulnerable process through during our sessions have had a lasting impact. I continue to use the practices, and the mediations, and to dive into my own spiritual ‘hippie-dipie’ journey as a result of our time together. I will continue to be grateful to the colleague who pushed me to step outside of my comfort zone. My husband has also reiterated that on the days that I take the time I need for myself o meditate to calm my mind and body I am a better person overall. I think the biggest takeaway is to be present, in the moment, to listen to your body, your mind, and your soul.
Escaping Crazy 