Re: doing the work with anxiety attacks.../

[Guest guest]

Hi ~

> i have been riding out episodes of anxiety of varying strength for

> about two months, and in between mindfulness, meditation, yoga,deep

> breathing and anything else i can find that helps, i've thought

> about trying to do the work with it, but i'm not sure how to,

> because i'm not often able to catch the thoughts

> that trigger each attack, if they're there.

*****As a adolescent, following one very bad LSD trip, I was visited

by anxiety attacks, what I called 'waking nightmares,' which

persisted, daily and on-going, for over two years. They gradually

diminished, over the course of the following FIVE years. Yep, they

were a not-infrequent visitor in this life, for more than seven

years. So...I can appreciate, via memory, what life seems like for

you.

I'm not one for self-destruction. But there is a vivid memory of

being caught in the pull of the unrelenting anxiety attacks for over

six months, and feeling, " If this doesn't end...soon!...I'm going to

kill myself. " And I made plans. I made plans. As a beautiful

poem, " Effort At Speech Between Two People, " by Muriel Rukeyser goes,

I had dreams of suicide,

and stood at a steep window, at sunset,

hoping toward death:

if the light had not melted clouds and plains

to beauty,

if light had not transformed that day, I

would have leapt.

(the entire poem is posted at the end of this message for those

interested)

As it turns out, the following several months saw a gradual but

gentle but tenacious diminishing of the awful feelings of fear and

terror. That soothing reduction allowed healing to occur; though

very, very slowly. So I am not unfamiliar with what you appear to be

experiencing .

At the time, for all those years, there was neither the knowledge,

the wisdom nor the resources to allow what was (anxiety) to be. At

that time, there was no understanding of the mechanical nature of

thought-emotion. And so I fought it, all the way, 24/7. Each effort

to dispel the anxiety, I was to discover, simply welcomed it home,

again and again. But it felt so .... yuckky, so uncomfortable and

unpleasant, how could I NOT expend energy to MAKE IT GO AWAY! And so,

the cycle perpetuated itself.

A Parable: Do you know what kills most people who are caught in an

undertow, a ripe-tide? Not the current's powerful pull itself. No.

What usually happens (unless the person is very small, very young),

is that the person undergoing the pull fights it, desperately expends

energy to get back to shore, swimming harder and harder against the

relentless sea. And even the best swimmers cannot beat it. They are

swept out to the ocean, serving, as the phrase goes, " at the pleasure

of the sea. " But what ultimately happens is that they eventually

find themselves in calm, non-destructive waters, out beyond the

tidewater. Unfortunately, at that point, they are so exhausted by

their (futile) efforts to avoid what was happening at the moment,

that they no longer have the energy to swim back to shore. And they

drown.

And yet...there are those rare individuals who do no get spooked by

the undercurrent. Who ride it, like a wave tossing one towards

shore. And when they ultimately find themselves in the placid water,

quite a bit from shore ~ no doubt! ~ they simply apply the energy

that was not used up in contesting the ripe-tide, and swim, with

renewed hope, back to shore, safe and sound (and perhaps a bit wiser).

It is the same with ALL thought: the good, the bad, and the ugly. As

suggests, there really is no need to inquiry into 'good'

thoughts. And most of us don't. We enjoy the story arising out of

happiness, joy, peace, contentment. If your dream is a blessing, why

would you want to wake up from it! But...when thoughts bring one to

the brink of desperation (or even earlier if possible!), then it is

time to examine them, to discover that what is genuinely happening is

that there are thoughts without a thinker. Desperate times call for

desperate measures! Yes...there is NO thinker. All there is, is

thought. Coming and going. Not " your " thought; just ... thought.

Ushering in joy, sadness, peace, upset, serenity, anger.

Thought never ends. It simply becomes less ... contentious. Its

illusory nature is seen through (by no one). And in that Seeing,

there is a ... release. Blessedly. If there is no stake, no caring

about what thought-emotion visits, then they never overstay their

welcome. The upsetting, troubling ones are just invitations

(sometimes, as in our case, very obstreperous!!), simply offerings

that may allow one to look deeper, to untangle the skein of confusion

which life knits into its expression as human beings.

Maybe, for you, there is now a proposal of a freer, wider,

perspective? Your worksheet indicates such: " My thinking is trapped

and overwhelms me. " You may want to explore if, in truth, it

is " your " thinking, or just ... thoughts. If you have been

mistakenly taking your thoughts for " you. "

Good luck on your journey!

" Effort At Speech Between Two People "

Speak to me. Take my hand. What

are you now?

I will tell you all. I will conceal nothing.

When I was three, a little child read a story

About a rabbit

who died, in the story, and I crawled under a

chair:

a pink rabbit: it was my birthday, and a

candle

burnt a sore spot on my finger, and I was

told to be happy.

Oh, grow to know me. I am not happy. I

will be open:

Now I am thinking of white sails against a

sky like music,

like glad horns blowing, and birds tilting,

and an arm about me.

There was one I loved, who wanted to live,

sailing.

Speak to me. Take my hand. What

are you now?

When I was nine, I was fruitily sentimental,

fluid: and my widowed aunt played Chopin,

and I bent my head on the painted

woodwork, and wept.

I want to be close to you now. I would

link the minutes of my days close, somehow,

to your days.

I am not happy. I will be open.

I have liked lamps in evening corners, and

quiet poems.

There has been fear in my life. Sometimes

I speculate

On what a tragedy his life was, really.

Take my hand. Fist my mind in your hand.

What are you now?

When I was fourteen, I had dreams of suicide,

and stood at a steep window, at sunset,

hoping toward death:

if the light had not melted clouds and plains

to beauty,

if light had not transformed that day, I

would have leapt.

I am unhappy. I am lonely. Speak to

me.

I will be open. I think he never loved me:

he loved the bright beaches, the little lips of

foam

that ride small waves, he loved the veer of

gulls:

he said with a happy mouth: I love you. Oh! Grow

to know me. Please!

What are you now? If we two could touch one

another,

if these our separate entities could come to

grips,

clenched like a Chinese puzzle...yesterday

I stood in a crowded street that was live with

people,

and no one spoke a word, and the morning

shone.

Everyone silent, moving...Take my hand.

Speak to me.

[Guest guest]

dear andy,

wow...wow. i dont know if it's the mood im in today or what, but your words

here brought such clarity and a sense of relief. like, " it's okay that you're

confused and frightened, and it's okay that you want out...that's all fine and

there is still hope as well. " your finest work yet!

and susan, your work is mine as well. i have personally found that in the

acceptance of pain (to the best of my feeble ability), the pain does pass into

whatever's next. the work helps...even when you dont think it does! best of

luck to you!

love,

jeremy

In a message dated 1/1/2004 12:22:41 PM Eastern Standard Time,

endofthedream@... writes:

> Hi ~

>

> > i have been riding out episodes of anxiety of varying strength for

> > about two months, and in between mindfulness, meditation, yoga,deep

> > breathing and anything else i can find that helps, i've thought

> > about trying to do the work with it, but i'm not sure how to,

> > because i'm not often able to catch the thoughts

> > that trigger each attack, if they're there.

>

>

> *****As a adolescent, following one very bad LSD trip, I was visited

> by anxiety attacks, what I called 'waking nightmares,' which

> persisted, daily and on-going, for over two years. They gradually

> diminished, over the course of the following FIVE years. Yep, they

> were a not-infrequent visitor in this life, for more than seven

> years. So...I can appreciate, via memory, what life seems like for

> you.

>

>

> I'm not one for self-destruction. But there is a vivid memory of

> being caught in the pull of the unrelenting anxiety attacks for over

> six months, and feeling, " If this doesn't end...soon!...I'm going to

> kill myself. " And I made plans. I made plans. As a beautiful

> poem, " Effort At Speech Between Two People, " by Muriel Rukeyser goes,

>

> I had dreams of suicide,

> and stood at a steep window, at sunset,

> hoping toward death:

> if the light had not melted clouds and plains

> to beauty,

> if light had not transformed that day, I

> would have leapt.

>

> (the entire poem is posted at the end of this message for those

> interested)

>

> As it turns out, the following several months saw a gradual but

> gentle but tenacious diminishing of the awful feelings of fear and

> terror. That soothing reduction allowed healing to occur; though

> very, very slowly. So I am not unfamiliar with what you appear to be

> experiencing .

>

> At the time, for all those years, there was neither the knowledge,

> the wisdom nor the resources to allow what was (anxiety) to be. At

> that time, there was no understanding of the mechanical nature of

> thought-emotion. And so I fought it, all the way, 24/7. Each effort

> to dispel the anxiety, I was to discover, simply welcomed it home,

> again and again. But it felt so .... yuckky, so uncomfortable and

> unpleasant, how could I NOT expend energy to MAKE IT GO AWAY! And so,

> the cycle perpetuated itself.

>

> A Parable: Do you know what kills most people who are caught in an

> undertow, a ripe-tide? Not the current's powerful pull itself. No.

> What usually happens (unless the person is very small, very young),

> is that the person undergoing the pull fights it, desperately expends

> energy to get back to shore, swimming harder and harder against the

> relentless sea. And even the best swimmers cannot beat it. They are

> swept out to the ocean, serving, as the phrase goes, " at the pleasure

> of the sea. " But what ultimately happens is that they eventually

> find themselves in calm, non-destructive waters, out beyond the

> tidewater. Unfortunately, at that point, they are so exhausted by

> their (futile) efforts to avoid what was happening at the moment,

> that they no longer have the energy to swim back to shore. And they

> drown.

>

> And yet...there are those rare individuals who do no get spooked by

> the undercurrent. Who ride it, like a wave tossing one towards

> shore. And when they ultimately find themselves in the placid water,

> quite a bit from shore ~ no doubt! ~ they simply apply the energy

> that was not used up in contesting the ripe-tide, and swim, with

> renewed hope, back to shore, safe and sound (and perhaps a bit wiser).

>

> It is the same with ALL thought: the good, the bad, and the ugly. As

> suggests, there really is no need to inquiry into 'good'

> thoughts. And most of us don't. We enjoy the story arising out of

> happiness, joy, peace, contentment. If your dream is a blessing, why

> would you want to wake up from it! But...when thoughts bring one to

> the brink of desperation (or even earlier if possible!), then it is

> time to examine them, to discover that what is genuinely happening is

> that there are thoughts without a thinker. Desperate times call for

> desperate measures! Yes...there is NO thinker. All there is, is

> thought. Coming and going. Not " your " thought; just ... thought.

> Ushering in joy, sadness, peace, upset, serenity, anger.

>

> Thought never ends. It simply becomes less ... contentious. Its

> illusory nature is seen through (by no one). And in that Seeing,

> there is a ... release. Blessedly. If there is no stake, no caring

> about what thought-emotion visits, then they never overstay their

> welcome. The upsetting, troubling ones are just invitations

> (sometimes, as in our case, very obstreperous!!), simply offerings

> that may allow one to look deeper, to untangle the skein of confusion

> which life knits into its expression as human beings.

>

>

> Maybe, for you, there is now a proposal of a freer, wider,

> perspective? Your worksheet indicates such: " My thinking is trapped

> and overwhelms me. " You may want to explore if, in truth,

> it

> is " your " thinking, or just ... thoughts. If you have been

> mistakenly taking your thoughts for " you. "

>

> Good luck on your journey!

>

>

> " Effort At Speech Between Two People "

>

> Speak to me. Take my hand. What

> are you now?

> I will tell you all. I will conceal nothing.

> When I was three, a little child read a story

> About a rabbit

> who died, in the story, and I crawled under a

> chair:

> a pink rabbit: it was my birthday, and a

> candle

> burnt a sore spot on my finger, and I was

> told to be happy.

>

> Oh, grow to know me. I am not happy. I

> will be open:

> Now I am thinking of white sails against a

> sky like music,

> like glad horns blowing, and birds tilting,

> and an arm about me.

> There was one I loved, who wanted to live,

> sailing.

>

> Speak to me. Take my hand. What

> are you now?

> When I was nine, I was fruitily sentimental,

> fluid: and my widowed aunt played Chopin,

> and I bent my head on the painted

> woodwork, and wept.

> I want to be close to you now. I would

> link the minutes of my days close, somehow,

> to your days.

>

> I am not happy. I will be open.

> I have liked lamps in evening corners, and

> quiet poems.

> There has been fear in my life. Sometimes

> I speculate

> On what a tragedy his life was, really.

>

> Take my hand. Fist my mind in your hand.

> What are you now?

> When I was fourteen, I had dreams of suicide,

> and stood at a steep window, at sunset,

> hoping toward death:

> if the light had not melted clouds and plains

> to beauty,

> if light had not transformed that day, I

> would have leapt.

> I am unhappy. I am lonely. Speak to

> me.

>

> I will be open. I think he never loved me:

> he loved the bright beaches, the little lips of

> foam

> that ride small waves, he loved the veer of

> gulls:

> he said with a happy mouth: I love you. Oh! Grow

> to know me. Please!

>

> What are you now? If we two could touch one

> another,

> if these our separate entities could come to

> grips,

> clenched like a Chinese puzzle...yesterday

> I stood in a crowded street that was live with

> people,

> and no one spoke a word, and the morning

> shone.

> Everyone silent, moving...Take my hand.

> Speak to me.

[Guest guest]

andy, thank you for this post. i cannot imagine how you made it

through those years. teenagehood was hard enough for me, without such

soul-crushing anxiety.

it's funny how quickly i can close down around it and forget what i

know to be true about thinking and reality. you are so right that

every effort to get rid of anxiety brings it in even more strongly.

i'm very grateful for your encouragement,

warmly,

susan

>

> Hi ~

>

> > i have been riding out episodes of anxiety of varying strength

for

> > about two months, and in between mindfulness, meditation,

yoga,deep

> > breathing and anything else i can find that helps, i've thought

> > about trying to do the work with it, but i'm not sure how to,

> > because i'm not often able to catch the thoughts

> > that trigger each attack, if they're there.

>

>

> *****As a adolescent, following one very bad LSD trip, I was

visited

> by anxiety attacks, what I called 'waking nightmares,' which

> persisted, daily and on-going, for over two years. They gradually

> diminished, over the course of the following FIVE years. Yep, they

> were a not-infrequent visitor in this life, for more than seven

> years. So...I can appreciate, via memory, what life seems like for

> you.

>

>

> I'm not one for self-destruction. But there is a vivid memory of

> being caught in the pull of the unrelenting anxiety attacks for

over

> six months, and feeling, " If this doesn't end...soon!...I'm going

to

> kill myself. " And I made plans. I made plans. As a beautiful

> poem, " Effort At Speech Between Two People, " by Muriel Rukeyser

goes,

>

> I had dreams of suicide,

> and stood at a steep window, at sunset,

> hoping toward death:

> if the light had not melted clouds and plains

> to beauty,

> if light had not transformed that day, I

> would have leapt.

>

> (the entire poem is posted at the end of this message for those

> interested)

>

> As it turns out, the following several months saw a gradual but

> gentle but tenacious diminishing of the awful feelings of fear and

> terror. That soothing reduction allowed healing to occur; though

> very, very slowly. So I am not unfamiliar with what you appear to

be

> experiencing .

>

> At the time, for all those years, there was neither the knowledge,

> the wisdom nor the resources to allow what was (anxiety) to be. At

> that time, there was no understanding of the mechanical nature of

> thought-emotion. And so I fought it, all the way, 24/7. Each

effort

> to dispel the anxiety, I was to discover, simply welcomed it home,

> again and again. But it felt so .... yuckky, so uncomfortable and

> unpleasant, how could I NOT expend energy to MAKE IT GO AWAY! And

so,

> the cycle perpetuated itself.

>

> A Parable: Do you know what kills most people who are caught in an

> undertow, a ripe-tide? Not the current's powerful pull itself.

No.

> What usually happens (unless the person is very small, very young),

> is that the person undergoing the pull fights it, desperately

expends

> energy to get back to shore, swimming harder and harder against the

> relentless sea. And even the best swimmers cannot beat it. They

are

> swept out to the ocean, serving, as the phrase goes, " at the

pleasure

> of the sea. " But what ultimately happens is that they eventually

> find themselves in calm, non-destructive waters, out beyond the

> tidewater. Unfortunately, at that point, they are so exhausted by

> their (futile) efforts to avoid what was happening at the moment,

> that they no longer have the energy to swim back to shore. And

they

> drown.

>

> And yet...there are those rare individuals who do no get spooked by

> the undercurrent. Who ride it, like a wave tossing one towards

> shore. And when they ultimately find themselves in the placid

water,

> quite a bit from shore ~ no doubt! ~ they simply apply the energy

> that was not used up in contesting the ripe-tide, and swim, with

> renewed hope, back to shore, safe and sound (and perhaps a bit

wiser).

>

> It is the same with ALL thought: the good, the bad, and the ugly.

As

> suggests, there really is no need to inquiry into 'good'

> thoughts. And most of us don't. We enjoy the story arising out of

> happiness, joy, peace, contentment. If your dream is a blessing,

why

> would you want to wake up from it! But...when thoughts bring one

to

> the brink of desperation (or even earlier if possible!), then it is

> time to examine them, to discover that what is genuinely happening

is

> that there are thoughts without a thinker. Desperate times call

for

> desperate measures! Yes...there is NO thinker. All there is, is

> thought. Coming and going. Not " your " thought; just ... thought.

> Ushering in joy, sadness, peace, upset, serenity, anger.

>

> Thought never ends. It simply becomes less ... contentious. Its

> illusory nature is seen through (by no one). And in that Seeing,

> there is a ... release. Blessedly. If there is no stake, no

caring

> about what thought-emotion visits, then they never overstay their

> welcome. The upsetting, troubling ones are just invitations

> (sometimes, as in our case, very obstreperous!!), simply offerings

> that may allow one to look deeper, to untangle the skein of

confusion

> which life knits into its expression as human beings.

>

>

> Maybe, for you, there is now a proposal of a freer, wider,

> perspective? Your worksheet indicates such: " My thinking is

trapped

> and overwhelms me. " You may want to explore if, in truth, it

> is " your " thinking, or just ... thoughts. If you have been

> mistakenly taking your thoughts for " you. "

>

> Good luck on your journey!

>

>

> " Effort At Speech Between Two People "

>

> Speak to me. Take my hand. What

> are you now?

> I will tell you all. I will conceal nothing.

> When I was three, a little child read a story

> About a rabbit

> who died, in the story, and I crawled under a

> chair:

> a pink rabbit: it was my birthday, and a

> candle

> burnt a sore spot on my finger, and I was

> told to be happy.

>

> Oh, grow to know me. I am not happy. I

> will be open:

> Now I am thinking of white sails against a

> sky like music,

> like glad horns blowing, and birds tilting,

> and an arm about me.

> There was one I loved, who wanted to live,

> sailing.

>

> Speak to me. Take my hand. What

> are you now?

> When I was nine, I was fruitily sentimental,

> fluid: and my widowed aunt played Chopin,

> and I bent my head on the painted

> woodwork, and wept.

> I want to be close to you now. I would

> link the minutes of my days close, somehow,

> to your days.

>

> I am not happy. I will be open.

> I have liked lamps in evening corners, and

> quiet poems.

> There has been fear in my life. Sometimes

> I speculate

> On what a tragedy his life was, really.

>

> Take my hand. Fist my mind in your hand.

> What are you now?

> When I was fourteen, I had dreams of suicide,

> and stood at a steep window, at sunset,

> hoping toward death:

> if the light had not melted clouds and plains

> to beauty,

> if light had not transformed that day, I

> would have leapt.

> I am unhappy. I am lonely. Speak to

> me.

>

> I will be open. I think he never loved me:

> he loved the bright beaches, the little lips of

> foam

> that ride small waves, he loved the veer of

> gulls:

> he said with a happy mouth: I love you. Oh! Grow

> to know me. Please!

>

> What are you now? If we two could touch one

> another,

> if these our separate entities could come to

> grips,

> clenched like a Chinese puzzle...yesterday

> I stood in a crowded street that was live with

> people,

> and no one spoke a word, and the morning

> shone.

> Everyone silent, moving...Take my hand.

> Speak to me.

[Guest guest]

Yes, ,

I used to have anxiety attacks like Andy's brought on by teenage LSD

use. In time, they stopped, then recurred when I was a 31 year old new mother. I

was in group therapy and doing intensive work on my post-partem

depression/anxiety attacks. One day I was driving my car and I had to pull over

to the side

of the road because I felt the onset of an attack. I tensed up for the

fight.... Tried to push the anxiety away with force of will and dread. By

chance, I

had been discovering in my other work in therapy that much of my thinking was

" backwards. " I had created a little rule of thumb for myself: " If I think it,

it's probably not too beneficial, so I'll just think the opposite, and that

will probably be a better path for me. " (This was 1978.) I called it my:

" everything in life is opposite from what you expect it to be " rule.

OK, back to the side of the road: I was sitting in the car with an

anxiety attack gaining momentum and I was telling myself: " Stop being afraid,

you

MUST stop being scared " . I thought: what if I try the " everything is opposite

rule? " With that thought I also thought to myself: If this works I'm going to

pee my pants because it is so simple. " Oh well, let me give it a shot: I told

myself: It's OK to be afraid. I give myself permission to be scared " .... And

just like Andy said, I had the same experience. When I stopped fighting the

attacks and gave myself permission to feel my feelings...I rode the wave back to

peace and safety.

I am writing to confirm the parable Andy told about the wave. I had the

exact same experience. He gave you some wonderful advice. Thanks,

Joni

[Guest guest]

hi joni,

thanks for telling me of your experience. it's funny how long it took

me to understand what it meant not to resist the attacks. when i was

in the throes of one, i'd say, " t's okay, i'm feeling afraid, hello

fear, " and i'd get through it, but it took me weeks of these attacks

before i finally caught myself resisting the awareness of rising

anxiety. i realized one day that i was turning my attention away from

the sensation of fear starting to appear in my body, pushing it out

of my awareness in hopes it would go away. since then i've gotten

better at catching anxiety earlier and the episodes are milder and

shorter.

i have to say, your story and andy's make me very glad that i never

tried lsd, even though i was curious about the transcendent nature of

the experience. i was too afraid i'd have exactly what you and andy

experienced (and i probably would have, if only because i was afraid

of it...)

take care,

susan

> Yes, ,

> I used to have anxiety attacks like Andy's brought on by

teenage LSD

> use. In time, they stopped, then recurred when I was a 31 year old

new mother. I

> was in group therapy and doing intensive work on my post-partem

> depression/anxiety attacks. One day I was driving my car and I had

to pull over to the side

> of the road because I felt the onset of an attack. I tensed up for

the

> fight.... Tried to push the anxiety away with force of will and

dread. By chance, I

> had been discovering in my other work in therapy that much of my

thinking was

> " backwards. " I had created a little rule of thumb for myself: " If

I think it,

> it's probably not too beneficial, so I'll just think the opposite,

and that

> will probably be a better path for me. " (This was 1978.) I called

it my:

> " everything in life is opposite from what you expect it to be " rule.

> OK, back to the side of the road: I was sitting in the car with

an

> anxiety attack gaining momentum and I was telling myself: " Stop

being afraid, you

> MUST stop being scared " . I thought: what if I try the " everything

is opposite

> rule? " With that thought I also thought to myself: If this works

I'm going to

> pee my pants because it is so simple. " Oh well, let me give it a

shot: I told

> myself: It's OK to be afraid. I give myself permission to be

scared " .... And

> just like Andy said, I had the same experience. When I stopped

fighting the

> attacks and gave myself permission to feel my feelings...I rode the

wave back to

> peace and safety.

> I am writing to confirm the parable Andy told about the wave. I

had the

> exact same experience. He gave you some wonderful advice. Thanks,

> Joni

>

>

>