Hello Anxiety, My Old Familiar Friend.

This time last year, I thought I had conquered anxiety once and for all. I thought my social anxiety/generalized anxiety was a thing of the past. I thought I had gone through all of the scenarios that one could possibly go through and worked through all of it. (HA!) And even though I wasn’t 100% “recovered”, per se, interacting with people, dealing with authority figures, and being able to communicate were much, much easier than they previously were.

While it still does hold true that I am much, much better in dealing with social situations and scenarios, my old familiar friend, social anxiety, has come for a visit.

My Journey With Social Anxiety

At this point in my mental health journey in dealing with social anxiety disorder, I can look back and confidently say that I have definitely come a long way in my journey. Unlike many people with social anxiety who struggle with peer situations and feeling judged in large groups of people, my social anxiety disorder has mainly been in the realm of being intensely afraid of authority figures/teachers.

I can recall moments up through college, being terrified to ask my teachers questions, fearing that they would judge me and think I was “stupid” for asking a question or asking for help. I only went to office hours the first — and only time — during my 4th year of college. And even then, I was terrified that my professor would think I was an idiot.

Grad school was a whole different ball game. I worked with my therapists (SchoolT, OT, & CT) on **multiple** anxiety provoking situations that I was avoiding like the plague. Going to office hours, sending/answering emails, communicating about basically anything, because again — I was terrified that they were going to judge me for being stupid or incompetent. It took months of repeated exposure to the same situations (replying to emails, actually going to and sitting in their offices, not avoiding (to the best of my ability) situations where I would have to talk to a professor), and having neutral (or positive) experiences of realizing that my professors weren’t judging me for my email writing and weren’t judging me for asking a question, and weren’t judging me for submitting a document late, that my anxiety slowly began to fade away. And obviously, we can’t forget that one session with CT where we spent 40 minutes of a 50 minute session time crafting, writing, and sending an email. But once that email was sent out, that was a turning point. I had had a successful experience sending an email (albeit with CT’s support), but if I could do it that time, I could do it again.

However, even in the midst of dealing with and tackling all these aspects of anxiety, I continue to struggle with admitting that I need help/asking for help, both individually and in a group setting.

Anxiety and Figure Skating Meet

I started taking figure skating lessons last summer. I had promised myself that once I found a “full time job”, that I would start to take lessons. Initially, I decided to start with semi-private lessons, mainly because I figured that it seemed less intimidating for me if there was someone else around that I could “hide behind”. This was a social situation of having to interact with an authority figure — something that I had not dealt with in a while. I figured I would feel less exposed if someone else was around. In a way, I would be able to do what I was used to, and what was easiest — rely on someone else to communicate for me. When it slowly became evident that that was the case (I was falling back on my tendency of relying on the person I was taking semi-private lessons with to communicate for me), I decided I was going to switch to private lessons instead.

Simply making that switch was already a huge hurdle for me. I suddenly felt very exposed in every lesson. No longer was there someone there to hide behind. I could no longer use someone to communicate for me. It felt like everything I was doing was being examined under a microscope. It took a few weeks before that feeling of being exposed during each lesson wore off, and for a while, everything went on as usual.

Enter: December and Freestyle Sessions

It was in December when I started experimenting with my skating schedule. I knew I wanted to skate more (and hopefully gain more confidence on the ice & with myself), so I tried skating at different rinks, different times of day, working outside of the house so I could fit skating in to my schedule — all the variations were included.

One day, I happened to sign up for a freestyle session that my coach was also skating on (that I was unaware would happen). I panicked. Not only did I feel exposed, but also, I was the only other person at the rink that session…and it was not within the context of a lesson. There were skills that I wanted to practice that day that I knew I sucked at. But it was a different type of anxiety knowing that she knew that I sucked at those skills, because suddenly I felt like I had to magically show some type of improvement or have a certain skill that was “perfect”. The panic I felt that day was eerily similar to the first panic attack I had experienced during my freshman year of high school — where I was completely unprepared for and was basically “shoved” into my high school English teacher’s classroom to ask him a question. The panic I felt was like being pushed off of the high dive — when you’re unaware of when someone will push you off.

It was after that day that this anxiety — the “my coach is watching and judging everything I’m doing” anxiety — really took off. Logically, I totally get it. She’s there to help me improve and not giving me corrections to make me feel bad. But anxiety brain is having a blast at the current moment feeding me with messages like: She’s going to see every single mistake that you make. You’re hopeless for not remembering/not being able to apply corrections. You should’ve been able to do this skill months ago — you’re so slow at this.

The most challenging aspect in all of this is that I’m not able to fight against these thoughts yet. The fear that I’m being scrutinized over every move I’m making. The fear that she might think I’m “hopeless” for not remembering/being able to apply corrections from one week to the next. The fear that I’ll come across as stupid or incompetent because I don’t get how to do a certain skill, even after I’ve tried it and seen it demonstrated a billion times. And the worst fear: The fear that it’ll come across that I’m not trying hard enough, or that I’m intentionally [not] listening or paying attention, when the reality is that it’s actually the complete opposite. Quite a few of these fears overlap with my social anxiety fears as well. I used to feel terrible when my teachers would just assume that I wouldn’t talk in class or turn in my work due to being unwilling to do so, and I would always assume that if I asked a question, my teachers would assume that I was an idiot for doing so.

Thus, I recognize these fears as being directly related to my social anxiety — just in a slightly different form. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) based on my previous experience, it just takes time to overcome this new social anxiety-related challenge. And what I mean by time is LOTS of repetition (wash, rinse, repeat) of having neutral (or positive) experiences that prove to anxiety brain that all these fears are unwarranted. Or — not as bad as I think they’re going to be.

Hopefully a year from now, I can look back on this current challenge I’m dealing with and confidently say that I’ve come so far in dealing with this situation. For now — we’ll just take it one step at a time, I guess…

Sometimes, the Best Way to Move Forward is to Slow Down

I fell today skating backward. It’s interesting, though, that all my falls so far have been while moving backward…but all due to stupid reasons. The first time I fell was because of those stupid seals, the second time because I wasn’t looking behind me and I tripped over a group of teenagers (embarrassing), and tonight tops it all off. I skated right into a wall and slipped backward on an uneven edge of the ice. These random falls are sometimes nice, though. I need to fall more so that I’m not so terrified of falling (or failing?) – maybe both. I was joking afterward with an adult hockey player that it may be wise to invest in a butt pad now. BUT, it really didn’t hurt. At all. Natural padding, perhaps? It may be wiser to invest in thicker gloves, though. My hands took the brunt of it all.

Life Lesson: Stop When Tired (or Frustrated, or Both!)

Tonight’s fall taught me a lesson: Stop when tired. I got to the end of a 90-minute public session tired and frustrated, and I decided I would do one last lap around the ice before heading home. It would’ve been wiser to stop right then instead of skating tired and frustrated.

But I wanted to leave the ice feeling okay about how things went today. It is usually difficult for me to feel confident about my skating (or many things, really? hello anxiety, my old friend.), unless I see, or I’m being reminded of the progress I’m making. Otherwise, I’m prone to being my worst critic. If someone else can get something on one or two tries, I expect myself to do the same. If it takes longer than I’m wanting or wish, I feel really stupid and incompetent. It is also harder to feel positive about my skating when I’m tired, to begin with.

The frustration sets in when I want to (and struggle to) understand how to do something. I can’t do this. I don’t know how to do this. My mind may scream out. And to admit that something makes no sense to me makes it even worse. At that moment, I can forget about taking in any suggestions. Other times, what might make sense a few days prior during a lesson makes no sense when I’m trying to practice on my own. Then panic sets in if I see people around me in class being able to do something that I think I should be able to do — but I can’t. Then I go back out during a public session to attempt said frustrating skill (or skills), or I avoid doing it altogether. There’s got to be a smarter way around this.

And there probably is. Something to the effect of practicing just one aspect. The aspect that I’m comfortable with. (I learned that tip during ballet class!) Slowing down in order to make more progress overall. And (hopefully/ideally) feel more successful overall.

As a (former) teacher and current tutor, I understand this concept so well. Sometimes, the best way to make progress is to take steps back. To learn an easier/related concept first, and then move on to the hard stuff. My kiddo hates when I do that. She’ll roll her eyes at me and answer the easier question without hesitation, and then comment “That is so easy. That is a kindergarten thing.” But in some interesting way, her brain comprehends the easier concept, and when we return to the harder concept the next session, it is no longer a hindrance for her. I’ve seen it over and over again in my own tutoring experience. You take a concept that the kid struggles to comprehend, break it down into the simplest form, add in a dash (or more) of patience and encouragement…and voila!

Yet when the roles are reversed, it is difficult. I just want to be able to do what other people are doing right now. I see what other people can do, and what I can’t do, and I want to be able to do the skill as well. I can be doing well or improving in another certain area, but that is completely disregarded because my focus is on some other skill that I just can’t get. The focus is always on something I can’t get or can’t do. Never on what I’ve already done or what I can do well. Just like my own kiddo, mentally, I may have the same reaction to an “easier” skill: “Well, that’s so easy…” But, at some point, it may be wiser for me to slow down in order to make more progress. To stop fighting against my own mind, essentially.

An Old Familiar Road

I suppose it is encouraging that I have been down this road before (of battling against my own mind), wanting to push myself into doing things I see other people doing, and not giving myself enough credit for the things I am already doing. I can’t tell you how many of my therapist(s) would remind me that I was making progress and improving. And yet, from my end, I would always question if that was the case. I was still panicking if I had to ask a teacher/professor a question, I still avoided raising my hand or talking out loud, and still freaked out opening up during session. Yet, it took slow, steady, progress, sometimes taking steps backwards in order to go forwards and constantly being reminded about the progress I was making in order to finally (slowly) start to see it for myself. It wasn’t until after I had been in session with CT for at least a year, if not more, that I started realizing that I was making progress and that there was hope on the other side.

Hopefully, it won’t take me as long to witness this change in skating. But I suppose it is a similar situation that I must go through in order to make progress, especially on days when anxiety and relentless comparison brain is being relentless – slow things down in order to eventually speed up.

Anxiety, Meet Figure Skating

Most people in my life are amazed that I decided to pick up figure skating as an adult. The general reaction is sort of: “WOW! That’s SO COOL that you skate! Can you do cool tricks?!” at which point I smile, laugh, and respond with: “Haha, not yet. But it is interesting.”

Background

I picked up skating during my last quarter of grad school (spring quarter 2018). My therapist (CT) had suggested I “pick up a sport”, because I was feeling both unmotivated and highly anxious and found myself not wanting to get out of the house. I’m sure she meant an *easier* sport like… I don’t know… running, yoga, heck, even swimming (since I was a competitive swimmer in elementary school and early college) But at the time, I was dealing with drama with one of my roommates, so what better way to get out of the house on a Saturday morning than to pick up figure skating? After all, I had a cheap(ish) pair of skates that I bought when I took 3 or so group classes with a friend during college, and figured I could put those skates to use — all the while thinking that I didn’t want to spend hundreds of dollars on something if this wasn’t something I was going to stick with.

But soon enough, I was hooked. 13 weeks of beginning skating class flew by.

And through skating, I realized it could become my therapy after I was no longer in therapy. What happened on the ice (how I talked to myself) also translated to my “real” life. When I struggled being anxious about asking questions or asking for help in “real life”, I suddenly found myself using the self-talk I had developed during skating (and constantly being reinforced during class as well). Rather than wanting to avoid certain difficult situations, I began to remind myself: “I’m freaking out about doing [XYZ], but it’s okay. I’m still going to try it anyway.” It was some of the same things that I was telling myself as I was learning new skills, which translated over to my daily life. It was the first time that I discovered that a sport that I was doing was helping to develop my mental strength and helping me make progress with social anxiety.

Later that fall after I moved back home, I continued to take group classes. Then, the reverse began to happen. During the second to last class, we had a “skill assessment”, to see if we could test out and move to the next level. I freaked out. I didn’t want to experience that type of anxiety anymore, so I decided to switch to a rink where we did not have to be assessed to avoid this bimonthly anxiety-inducing “testing”.

Hello, Skating-Related Anxiety, Jealousy, and Perfectionism

Weeks turned into months, and I began to experience a new type of skating-related anxiety. There were certain skills that I learned that would cause me to panic, and whatever mental strength I had developed would crumble to the ground. What had started as: “I’m scared, but I’m going to do it anyway.” slowly morphed into what has now become: “Goddammit, Amanda, why can’t you do [XYZ]?!”, which, I’m positive has perpetuated this anxiety.

On top of this, seeing certain other adult students at the rink began to trigger my inner hyper-competitiveness. (Read: BAD sign). While certain people would see young kids doing crazy jumps and grow jealous, I know there are certain skills, especially as an adult, that I’m never going to do, and that’s fine. I’m never going to be able to compete with these kids, so it’s a non-issue for me.

It’s usually the person at the rink who is just above my level to a certain point, where I see them, and I think: “Hmm, I could get to their level with just a bit more practice/hard work” that triggers this destructive competitiveness for me. Many people would view this as a type of healthy motivation, but in my case, it has the opposite effect. Internally, what I often end up telling myself is: “Just f***ing do it! Why can’t you just do it already?! Why is it taking you so long to learn this?!” Recently, I’ve found myself growing increasingly frustrated at skating. A new feeling for me. But I know exactly why that is and who is/are the people who trigger this feeling. Rather than using it as motivation to work harder, the mental dialogue turns nasty. Yes, I know that I have to be patient with myself and not compare myself to others, but it’s all easier said than done. And before, I thought I could just avoid being around these people, so as to not trigger it, but I’ve realized that regardless of what level I get to, there’s always going to be SOMEONE who will trigger it.

These past few weeks, as I’ve been practicing/learning some skills that really don’t come naturally to me (and often are the ones I tend to avoid while on a public session), I took the time to listen to my internal dialogue. The desire to want to learn something new is great, as is the desire of wanting to continually grow and improve as a skater. But when this desire turns destructive, especially when I want to “DO IT NOW, WHY THE HELL IS IT TAKING ME SO LONG TO LEARN SOMETHING THAT SHOULD BE EASY LIKE [INSERT SKILL]?!” I have to take a step back and consider the whole picture. (Yes, easier said than done.)

I reflect on this (new) skating-related frustration, and I realize that what I’m going through is nothing new. For years, I would sabotage my treatment progress in therapy by pushing myself way too quickly, which, in the long run, made my overall progress in therapy slow down incredibly. Eventually I’ll learn to move at my own pace AND channel this competitive nature of mine in a healthy manner. After all, it’s not going to go away…and avoiding triggering people and situations isn’t going to solve anything. For now, we just hope that the frustration will eventually lessen (or dissipate), and I’ll learn to be kinder to myself. 🙂

A Collective Sigh of Relief

Today is a glorious day, a day in which I’m sure (many) Americans all took a collective breath of relief. We are finally free to breathe again.

If you haven’t heard, or you’re not a US Citizen, today, Joe Biden has been announced as the next president of the US. Even more than during previous election cycles, this year truly feels like a year to celebrate.

I’ve never considered myself as a “solid left Democrat”. In fact, I would honestly consider myself more “moderate”. But this year, I solidly pushed for Democrats and Democrats only for all elected offices. Yes… even though I live in the historic democratic stronghold state of CA.

I see this vote not just as me voicing my opinions but also having hope for the US for the first time in 4 years, and wanting to see a better future for me and my (future, currently non-existent) children.

I want to see a future (and for my children) and be in a society where we respect and are not afraid people of different walks of life. Regardless of peoples’ cultural backgrounds, religious affiliations, their gender/sexual preferences, economic status… whether they meet people with physical or mental disabilities, their citizenship status. Any area in which others are different. I want to live in a society where people respect and learn from those who are different. Which is not to say that we must ‘conform’ to said values/ideas/walks of life, but we truly seek to understand everyone, and stand in solidarity with those around us.

I want to see a future where people care about our environment — our forests, our oceans, our carbon footprint. Are we recycling? Can we rely less on large corporations for food resources? Can we grow our own food and build a sustainable organic urban agricultural system so there is less waste in the landfills? I want to see a future where people care about scientific progress. Where scientific research (and research in general) is not looked down upon, but is encouraged. I want to see a future where little girls are encouraged to get into the STEM fields or to pursue higher education, because they can do just as much as boys can do. That they aren’t discouraged from higher education, and aren’t given the message that they can’t do something “because they are women”. (And on that same note, I want to see a future where a boy can go out and pursue ballet, play flute, or become a stay at home dad, and not be looked upon as “weird” or “strange” by society.)

I want to pass on values to my children where we pay attention to the needs of those who are less fortunate than us. Not only in the “soup kitchen”/”clothing donation” way, but also in giving of ourselves and our resources. Rather than pouring wealth and economic resources into our own hands, how can we help to better improve the community and the world around us? Is it to donate money? Is it to volunteer our time? Is it both? I want to live in a society where people are more than willing to invest their resources and wealth in bettering our schools, roads, transportation systems, and other public services, rather than spending so much of our time and energy on our own houses and our own material goods. I want to teach my children that while it is important to save and budget money, there is nothing to be gained from having fancy clothes, purses, houses, cars, etc. If they are blessed with financial resources, how can they use it to help others?

I want to live in a society where boys are taught from a young age to respect girls. I want to teach my children that if you see a person being harassed or taken advantage of in public, you do your best to protect them. I want to live in a society where women can have a “seat” at the table. She can be given space to express her viewpoints without people automatically assuming that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about “because she’s a woman”.

I want to live in a society where we can accept people from different cultures. We can collaborate and work together with foreign countries and allies. We can support each other on collective dreams, hopes, and goals for our global community at large.

I have big hopes and dreams for the future. For the world that I want my children to grow up in, and the type of world I want to live in as well. I may not see this all come to fruition in my lifetime, but what I do have now — that I haven’t had for 4 years now, is hope. Hope for the future, and hope for a better society.

Comparison is the Thief of Joy

Since early in my childhood, I’ve always had a tendency to compare myself to others. One of the earliest memories I have was from 2nd grade. One of my fellow classmates and I had been chosen for our district Spelling Bee, and this particular day, we were going to meet all the other class representatives from our school. I struck up a conversation with one girl in particular. She was only a grade above me, in 3rd grade. Obviously, at that age, there’s not much to talk about, so the first question out of our mouths was asking about age. It turns out, she was a whole grade above me, but a month younger than me. For some reason, that conversation began to bother me, and fester within me like an ugly disease. I went home that day and asked my mom (while sobbing) Why, why I couldn’t just be in the same grade as that girl. Why did I have to be older than the other kids in my class? If there was nothing wrong with me, intellectually, why couldn’t I just skip a grade? In my 8-year-old mind, that would solve the world’s issues.
I became keenly aware that boys tended to get ‘held back’, while all the other girls were not. With that, another comparison/self-confidence negative spiral also began. Not only was I stupid, but I was a stupid girl. And regardless of the stories or examples of a few other kids in similar situations as me, it always circled back to that comparison. I would look at others and always feel like I was behind.

For years — years on end, I would bring up this grade-age comparison, and the negative thoughts would begin to flow. I was older than my classmates. Therefore, I was stupid. Why couldn’t I just skip a grade. Why was I so dumb that I couldn’t be like all the other kids my age?

The comparisons of grade and age (finally) stopped after I graduated high school. But this first, and earliest comparison stole many years of happiness away from me.

As I got older, other comparisons took place. Achievement — such as why ALL of my classmates could take all the AP/Honors classes and be able to manage on 4 or 5 hours of sleep, but I couldn’t. Leadership — Why could a girl who wasn’t as ‘good’ as me at music could be the section leader in band. Friendships — why certain people around me always had friends who checked in on them, dropped off gifts, threw surprise birthday parties, but I didn’t.

Through years of therapy, and working on negative/anxious thought spirals and self-confidence, I’ve worked to re-frame those comparisons and consider accomplishments that I have made without comparing myself to others. (Yay, CBT.)

However, recently, I’ve found myself in the comparison trap yet again. Maybe it’s the time of year, and maybe it’s because everybody posts only their accomplishments on social media. Thoughts such as: I’m 30, and look at all my peers who: Have their PhDs, Are dating/engaged/married/have 1-4 kids, Have nice full-time jobs and careers they are satisfied with, (and more recently) Are homeowners.

And the comparisons start yet again. What am I doing with my life? I feel so worthless compared to all of them. What have I accomplished in my 30 years of life? (Silence…) NOTHING! (Which, in CBT/therapy exercise, I’d be encouraged to think about the things I have accomplished…and to challenge that thought. To critically question… Have I really accomplished NOTHING in 30 years? But I digress….)

Today, after reading a blog post a friend posted, I’m reminded to be patient with myself, and to continue to challenge the tendency toward comparisons and anxious/negative thought spirals. I have overcome and continue to deal with struggles and challenges that many of my peers don’t have to think about. The convoluted road I’ve taken toward my career goals has given me perspective and life experience that others might not ever encounter in their career journeys. And I can’t tell you how many of my peers who may have had picture perfect marriages at 25, 26, but are, at 30, now divorced, or on the brink of divorce. And is that something I want to compare myself to? Is it even a necessary or useful comparison?

I must also continue to remind myself (and to those reading) that many things posted on social media are glorified in a positive light. Comparison is truly the thief of joy. I will continue to challenge this tendency toward comparison, and remember to be patient with myself in my life journey.

My Mental Health Has Improved During Quarantine

I know, the title of this post sounds pretty strange — with all the negativity, the daily rising death tolls, incompetent American citizens who refuse to follow simple rules, with an even more incompetent imbecile ‘leading’ the country, how can anyone’s mental health actually improve during this time period?

I am aware that I write this post from a place of incredible privilege. I live in a large house where members of my family have separate spaces to retreat to, if needed, I’m quarantined with loving family members, I live in a safe, quiet neighborhood with neighbors we get along with, we have a large (enough!) backyard to do gardening in, and I am not under much financial stress.

Although we’ve been in quarantine here in Southern California for some 70? days now, to me, it feels like this time has just flown by. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind if I was quarantined for another 70 days! (well, I may take that back in a few months…) Last week, I took a rare trip out to get groceries. It wasn’t until I got to the grocery store that I had an epiphany. For the first time since I started driving (or at least it was a rare occurrence previously) I noticed that I did not have to listen to the radio while driving. For as long as I’ve been driving, I’ve had to have the radio on as white noise. Normally, I’m too filled with anxious thoughts that I cannot focus. But last week, for the first time, I felt no need to have the radio on. It was so different having such a calm mind, and a quiet time.

In general, though, as quarantine gets longer, and days stretch into months, and the months blend together, I feel more grounded and calmer. For the first time since my elementary school years I finally know what it is to live life without (much) anxiety. And you know what? It’s amaaazzzing. I continue to think: There are people in this world who live their daily lives like this? It’s incredible!

Here are some of the ways that quarantine has improved my mental health:

1. Catching up/making progress with my career change
   Although I am still very much unemployed and do not in the foreseeable future see myself returning to the previous part-time position I was working at, I’ve been able to take this time to take classes on Coursera to further my skills toward a career change, and continue to take online classes through an online certificate program without feeling anxious about getting too behind in my progress.
   
   
2. Improved Self-Confidence
   Without being able to tie my sense of self into my work or (not yet started career), in any activity that I do, I’ve discovered that I have so many more abilities and strengths that are not connected to my work or academic accomplishments.
   
   For instance, just a few weeks ago, I was able to (with minimal assistance) make dinner (2 dishes + rice) in less than 30 minutes. Prior to quarantine, I’d never have the confidence to do or try such a thing.
   I also gave myself a “quarantine haircut”– granted, at the length my hair is at, it’s very, very forgiving. But who knew, after watching a YouTube video, that I’d be able to do such a thing. It felt empowering to be able to cut my own hair.
   
   
3. Getting back into old hobbies, and discovering new hobbies
   Prior to quarantine, I was lucky if I had one day a week to do one thing I liked. With my schedule so packed, with homework/classes and work, I simply had no energy in the evenings to do anything ‘extra’. On top of that, sometimes, after getting home from work in the evenings, after dinner, I’d have to go back and finish homework.
   
   So Saturday became the only day I was able to pursue my one hobby — ice skating– and have some me time to recharge (and get away from my family members). As an introvert, who needs a ton of alone time and reflection time, I became increasingly angry and irritated at everyone with this pre-quarantine schedule. Naturally, my pre-quarantine self didn’t care about checking in with friends, either. I had no alone time during the week (M-F work & online class, S (by choice) skating, and Sunday- church) and wanted to do something else other than online classes & work.
   
   So when quarantine first began, you can imagine the sheer joy at suddenly having all the time to do all the things that I wanted AND needed to do. I finally had more time to myself, which meant a less annoying, less angry, and less irritated me AND I still had time/energy for others! What a change! Since starting quarantine, I’ve been able to: Do Duolingo for 40 days, bake bread, give myself a quarantine haircut, bake other baked goods, color, play piano, hang out with friends on Zoom, reconnect with some old friends, start an (overly) ambitious quarantine garden [highly recommend!], organize/deep clean my room, start binge watching a few Netflix shows, go on some nice social-distance walks & read a good number of books. Oh, and did I mention, I get all evening to think and reflect and process feelings?
   
   There are still a number of things I have yet to do–including finishing a puzzle….but right now, many puzzles are sold out!
   
   
4. Rekindling Old Friendships
   Since we obviously cannot hang out face to face, and I have many friends who have moved far away in recent months, this time has been a precious time for me to be able to reconnect with old friends.
   
   Also, the fact that the hangouts are happening on Zoom/online makes it much easier to schedule times to hang out. I normally don’t like battling traffic, so if I have to drive more than 30 minutes to ‘hang out’, I’d rather make up an excuse to not show up. But with Zoom, there is no excuse! So this type of lifestyle is perfect for me!
   
   Also, since I have Social Anxiety, hanging out on Zoom after months (or in some cases years) of not talking reduces my anxiety incredibly. I’m not sitting next to said person face to face, projecting all of my anxiety onto them, which is a win-win situation.
   
   
5. Spending more time on self-care
   As an HSP (Highly Sensitive Person), I’m extremely affected by my environment. My sensitivity to the environment (in addition to being extremely introverted) makes it so that I need to take a lot of time for myself, eat well (home cooked meals), sleep well (usually spending 10 hours in bed, 8ish hours asleep), and reduce my stress levels as much as possible.
   
   In my normal life, I find reducing stress a nearly impossible thing to do. It almost seems like a contradiction. On the one hand, I have a ton of overexcitabilities that make me very intense, perfectionistic, and wanting to go, go, go 100% of the time. On the other hand, I’m also HSP and cannot physically handle the go, go, go lifestyle all the time.
   
   This period of time has afforded me the gift to pursue all the intellectual pursuits and activities I enjoy, while being able to take time for myself to eat well, sleep well, and have a pretty stable, predictable schedule. In turn, my body has been calm and happy with a predictable, stable environment.

As businesses and other locations begin opening up, I know (eventually) I’ll be thrust back into the “real world” with unpredictability, stress, and less ideal life circumstances. Of course, I’ll also want to visit Disneyland and go out to restaurants and hang out with people face to face (at said restaurants). But I also hope while we transition into a post-quarantine world, I’ll continue to implement some (or many, if not most!) of these lifestyle changes into this “new normal” and continue to remember the calmness that this period of time has given to me.

Enjoying (and taking advantage of) Shelter in Place

Where I live (in California), we are now into Week 5 (I believe?) of shelter in place due to COVID-19. While most people I know are struggling with the orders at this point, I’ve gone through the gamut of feeling relieved, to being elated, and excited, but also guilty.

I am very aware of the risks of not following the orders, as well as a potential 2nd wave of COVID-19 if people don’t take this seriously. I am also very aware of the health risk factors of the people around me (and potentially me! At no-longer-in-my-20s, I fall into an age category that is associated with higher numbers of sickness and a few deaths.

The fact is, as most people around the world are struggling with increased anxiety, it is actually the thought of businesses opening up and life going back to a new normal that makes me feel the most anxious.

I left grad school in the fall of 2018, and moved back home to Southern California to live with my parents. It felt weird moving back home to my parents’ house, especially after so many years away. At some moments, I felt like I had regressed to my high school-aged self.

In January 2019, I started a part-time teaching job. Due to many factors, I decided I wanted to change career paths. For the past year, I’ve been in a career change phase of my life. Read: Confusing and stressful. During the summer, I wasn’t working at all, choosing to focus on taking online classes only. Right before shelter in place, I had just started a new after-school part time job working with elementary school kids. Much better for my sanity than teaching unmotivated adult students.

This period of time staying at home has given me the time I otherwise wouldn’t have had to try to play “catch up” in a sense. At one point in the beginning of the year, I would’ve considered myself lucky to be on the job market come January 2021. Due to all the extra time that I have, I’ve been able to take online classes AND courses through Coursera, to help fill in some gaps in knowledge. At this point, it looks like I may start sending out resumes in July. What a change in course!

For most people, shelter in place and social distancing means not being able to see friends, having life disrupted, and financial instability. Which, totally makes sense. At the beginning, when I lost my (new) job, I was upset and angry. At this point, I could not be happier.

To me, the longer shelter in place continues on, the more prepared I am to go on the job market (yikes! I know, it doesn’t quite make sense when written down…). It means I’m inching closer to my first full-time job — a long-awaited milestone in my crazy, convoluted journey toward a career. At the end of the day, I don’t really feel the same anxiety and sadness about shelter in place that everyone else does, because this “stuck” feeling that everyone is currently experiencing is what I’ve been dealing with for quite a bit of time now.

I’ve also gotten back into long-ignored hobbies (baking, gardening, writing, reading) that I wouldn’t have had the chance to do, if not for shelter in place. At the end of the day, this seems to be a win-win situation for me.

I obviously don’t want to be sheltered in place forever… but for the time being, I’m taking advantage of this time I’ve been gifted, that I otherwise wouldn’t have had.

Are We All Okay? A Poem

Are We All Okay?

How long must we be in hiding?
Please stop with all this panic buying
This is getting insane
And Trump’s the one to blame
Are we all still okay?

I drove to all the stores today
I might have to buy a bidet
No more food on the shelves
Might as well grow it ourselves
Are we all still okay?

No more sports to watch for distraction
No meetings, no parties, no factions
Life is on pause for now
Wanna buy things, but how?
Are we all still okay?

Watched the number of cases rising
None of this is too surprising
I noticed too late
And I don’t feel so great
Are we all still okay?

Imagine six months from today
We’ve got bread, milk, eggs, and a bidet
Water bottles are free
TP deep like the sea
Now we must all feel great!

Early Diagnosis (Would Things Have Been Easier?)

A few weeks ago, I had an incident that made the fact that I had a selective mutism diagnosis rush to the forefront of my mind. I don’t mention it much, because most I’m not (physically) in school anymore, and I’m not being forced to speak aloud in many situations, and I’ve –for the most part– been able to find good ways to cope/avoid like the plague/use sarcasm as a way to hide how anxious I was.

This is exactly what happened a few weeks ago during my skating class. At the beginning of our class, after we had done some drills to warm up, the instructor of our class gathered us all around and asked what we wanted to work on.

We we all standing in a circle, so naturally, she looked at me and asked what I wanted to work on. I completely clammed up, looked away, and pointed to one of my classmates. “You decide.” I said, with a nervous laugh.

And that was that. Most people would read this and think “So…what? Everyone has that type of reaction at one point or another…?” To me, it was a reminder of years and years of direct questions, not (physically) being able to respond, and eventually avoiding the question… or the teacher moving on. Or, it was wanting to raise my hand to ask a question, but physically feeling like my hands were superglued to the seat. Someone was strangling my neck whenever I wanted to speak. No. These feelings are not normal.

Often I wonder if selective mutism was more well-known when I was a child, would I have gotten help? Children now who are growing up with selective mutism have so many excellent resources at their disposal. In addition to therapists, psychiatrists, and speech therapists who are more knowledgeable (or at least aware of this type of condition), there are three well-known summer/winter camps/intensive therapies for children these days.

CommuniCamp (which was started by Dr. Elisa Shipon Blum, who I think of as the “pioneer” expert in the arena of selective mutism). Her daughter, probably around my age now, had selective mutism, and because of her daughter, she began this type of treatment. Then, I heard about Dr. Steven Kurtz’ “Brave Buddies” program. Again, it’s based off intensive exposure therapy, and (I believe?) one of the first programs in the nation to be in a simulated “classroom environment”. Finally, Adventure Camp, is a third type, based in the Chicago area, it’s designed and based off of Steven Kurtz’ program.

Based off anecdotes of children who received treatment early — and the keyword is early — many children were able to overcome SM and become fully verbal in the classroom, even being able to speak aloud to their teachers. The research also reflects this. SM is a disorder that should be nipped in the bud — diagnosed and treated early. If treated early, many children eventually overcome the disorder entirely.

Yet there are a crop of people like me — adults who never received treatment in childhood — who still struggle with the effects/symptoms of childhood SM. In essence, what could’ve/should’ve been treated early on in life is something that takes 10x more effort in adulthood to overcome.

When I get frustrated with myself and the SM symptoms that come paying me an (unwelcome) visit, I remind myself to take things moment by moment. And just like all the young children, I continue to practice BRAVE talking each time I face unpleasant(?) and uncomfortable situations.

Finding Work-Life Balance

A Fun, Hectic End to (F)Unemployment
I spent the last week of December 2018 playing, having fun, and spending time with family and friends. December 31st, I was out the entire day with a good friend, and January 1st through 3rd, we had family over.

I received a phone call in the afternoon on January 2nd asking if I would be interested in a job that I had interviewed for a few weeks prior. I eagerly agreed to the position over the phone. Of course, I thought in my mind, that I would begin the following Monday. “Perfect,” I thought… “a nice end to the first week of the new year, and a relaxing weekend.” The director of the program asked if I could come in and pick up books that day. I was thinking…. Why on a Wednesday? Right after the new year??

The director replied: “We’re open early tomorrow morning if you would like to come in, but you start teaching tomorrow!” My jaw nearly dropped out of my mouth. So… there went unemployment.

Enter: Job Two
At the end of my second day of teaching, I received another phone call from a University ESL Extension Program that I had sent my resume to but completely forgot about. To be honest, to this day, I still don’t remember when I sent my resume in! Never mind about that… Day 2 of teaching and I had received another job offer to work longer hours at this university. Would I have to immediately leave the private ESL college? Would I ignore this interview opportunity?

Eventually, I decided to interview at the university. Luckily, after finding out about my availability, I don’t have to choose between the two jobs. I will actually be working part time at BOTH locations (private ESL college & at a formal university ESL setting) starting at the end of February…. WOW!

A Month of Working
It’s been a month now since I’ve been working at the private ESL college, and it’s been pretty good. I feel like I’ve gotten into a nice rhythm of lesson planning, waking up at a decent time in the morning, and staying on top of grading and other teacher related tasks.

The hardest part of teaching? Trying to stay on top of daily lesson planning. What I’m realizing works well (for now) is to have a big picture or idea of what I’m going to teach for the next two weeks, and write daily lesson plans around those big ideas. It helps to keep me from sinking in the black hole of planning each night for the next night.

Way too Eager?
Right around the same time as I had received an offer from the university ESL program, I was also given the opportunity to teach a third class at my current job (I am currently teaching 2 separate classes at the moment). Of course, I jumped on it right away.

I had to be knocked down to planet earth by the parents. (The benefit of living at home, I guess??). Had I taken this position, I would be leaving home everyday at around 8 am, and not get back until around 5 or 6 pm. A full day of work by most Americans’ standards.

But teacher work includes **even more** hours after the teaching day. It requires going home, lesson planning, preparing materials and handouts, and beginning all over again the next day. Not to mention the side tutoring positions that I still have.

Lessons Yet to Be Learned…
I guess regardless of whether I’m at school or being given work opportunities, the lesson I have yet to learn is the same. I assume I can handle all tasks given to me in the world, and yet when life hits, it will *really* hit. How much energy do I have to handle not only teaching-related work, but a class that I’m taking, and life demands (such as chores, and time to just “be”)? I never factor in the latter issues…

Turning down opportunities is difficult. Wanting to take on ALL the challenges and ALL the difficult tasks simultaneously seems like a noble task, but at the end of the day, I risk my sanity and my health when I want to take on the world and then some.

To say that the stresses that I endured a few months back were **all** caused by school would be overexaggerating. Really, learning to balance life demands with “work” will be a life-long lesson to be learned. But I guess turning down teaching a third class at my current workplace is a good place to start…