Tag: mental-health

The Unresourced One

There’s a part of myself I’ve recently labeled “the Unresourced One.” Previously I’ve described it as “the least loved part of myself.” In essence it’s a storm of anger that takes me out of working order for hours at a time.

Every so often some trigger will cause it to surface and I’m consumed by rage. From the inside I feel I’m burning alive in an inferno of anger, yet from the outside it may mostly appear as “Walter is quiet” or “Walter is grumpy.” Yet the anger spills out. One housemate years ago told me that my anger scared them—which to this day is the feedback I’m most grateful for receiving.

I’ve become better at dealing with it. I’ve excused myself from work, from Quaker meeting, from house meetings. A many-miles walk often resets me. In recent years a ceremony of hapé helps ground me. Yet it all feels on some level like escapism. These tools don’t help me synthesize this unloved part of myself into my larger self. The rage is exiled, uninvited, and unprocessed.

In silence at the meditation center last week my mind formed opinions about everyone moving around me. I read one person as angry, impatient, and rude. Their daily task was lunch cleanup, and they moved briskly, slammed chairs, and sprayed tables where people still sat. My anger fixated and projected onto them.

Each afternoon, my task was veggie chopping. One day I walked in and they were standing in my spot, wearing my apron, and doing my job. I was consumed by rage in a flash. I could barely function.

I had to break silence in order to explain to the chef that actually they were in my place. He got me a new apron and chopping board. With a newly sharpened knife I chopped veggies and seethed at the person “in my place” two feet to my right.

And then, some grace, and a calm understanding. “I’m worthless” came peacefully to my mind. This person had taken my use and I was 𝑢𝑠𝑒-less. And with real lightness I saw it: it’s in moments when I fear that I’m useless that the Unresourced One rushes in to defend me.

The Body’s Sensations

I stopped therapy a couple weeks ago (I think I’ve worked out most of my major traumas?) And I thought I’d plug into my weekly calendar a Buddhist meditation instead. Tonight I went to this group which I was excited about and it was a total *disaster* as I experienced the most social anxiety I’ve had in probably 12 to 14 years.

For years now I’ve proudly said, “My anxiety is 10% of what it was in my thirties,” but tonight it was 100%. I didn’t even know all that was still in there! So intense.

On the plus side, I was meditating during the arrival of the most intense part of the social anxiety and for the first time I felt the sensations of extreme social anxiety in every inch of my body. It feels totally terrible. It was like every cell of my body was on fire and all screaming “Get out!” (Which I did!)

Buddha teaches that we do not react directly to what’s happening in the outside world; we are actually reacting to our body’s sensations which are themselves reacting to what’s happening in the outside world. When we get more in touch with our body’s sensations we gain the ability to choose how we act next. Oppositely–in our default human setting–when we are asleep to these sensations then we are at the mercy of our choice-less reactions.

So with that said, tonight was a bit of a success. Even while I decided to also give in to the anxiety, and got up and walked out after 20 minutes. (I have long had a policy of not giving in to anxiety.) An older version of me would have judged me awfully hard for leaving. So even while old patterns surprisingly came up, I also know that progress has been made.

Threads of Happiness

I spent $300 on an outfit for this month’s two weddings. My newly-married friend told me I needed to wear something nice! I spent a lot of emotional energy and time thinking about what to wear. I wanted something that was nice enough, that’d help me feel comfortable, and that wasn’t fancy. Ties, jackets, and dress shirts were out. I wanted everyday clothes. I bought expensive vegan Doc Marten’s shoes, a nice solid-colored flannel shirt, and a nice pair of pants and new socks. I felt great about what I found and marveled that it seemed both nice and in my style.

A few days ago, a day before my buddy’s wedding, I re-read the invitation and at the bottom it said “dress code: semi-formal.” Confused, running to ChatGPT for answers, it told me semi-formal meant a suit and tie, with a matching belt and shoes. Panicking, I looked at more websites, like Wikipedia, and did some Google image searches, and they all confirmed it: my comfy new outfit did not make the cut.

It’s hard to describe the spiral that happened; the anxiety that swept in. I could see the oncoming disaster crystal-clear in my mind: walking into the wedding as my schlub self, standing before a sea of men in stylish suits with matching leather shoes and belts, silk ties to their waists. I, alone a mess, standing before them. Maybe some whispering. Maybe my friend, embarrassed.

I’m not exaggerating. I came close to canceling. My anxiety was an 8 out of 10. In the hour before the wedding I spent 30 minutes with ChatGPT having it help me explore ways of explaining why I wasn’t dressed appropriately. It suggested, “I tend to dress simply, it’s part of my Quaker values to focus on the essentials and keep things plain.” I thought, “That might work!”

The evil genius of this anxiety was how un-insane it felt. It seemed perfectly rational. Not going to my friend’s wedding? Reasonable.

I walked into the wedding venue and my story fell down like a house of cards. Almost no one wore a full suit. And another gay guy paired his jacket and tie with daisy dukes and cowboy boots! The humor of these short-shorts pointed to the insanity of my story, which moments before felt as real as concrete. Now all that remained of it was disbelief and the laughter coming from my face.

But to go from intense anxiety and stress to laughter left me with more than relief. It also left embarrassment. How’d I allow my mind to make such a crazy story, and how’d I believe it so devoutly? How did I spend 24 hours as a mess, for nothing?

The emotional whiplash of going from insanity to clarity in an instant, that’s what I explored in therapy tonight. I told the story with a lot of humor, and I was caught off-guard by the intensity of the emotions that started to come up. The complete unnecessariness of all that anxiety and worry became clear. The invitation card wasn’t the source of my emotions. The suffering came from me! I made all that stress up. And I didn’t need to.

And I could see that the stress was much older than this wedding. I could see the same fear throughout my high school experience. Every day, for four years, I went to school marinated in the same stress and drenched in anxiety. And I could see how high school wasn’t the source of my misery any more than the wedding invite was. My mind made the suffering then, just as it did last week. I made it all up, out of love for myself, to keep me safe.

I sat quietly in therapy with my eyes shut, and in just a few minutes my mind seemed to re-record every high school memory. I saw them plainly, without all the anxiety, stress, and fear for my life. No filters or stories piled on top. Grief and relief poured out in tears.

Now, somehow changed; woven through my high school memories are some threads of happiness that I couldn’t see before and that I had forgotten all about.