It’s April and the A to Z Challenge. I have to write 26 posts, all around a theme. That’s a lot of writing, so I chose Anxiety as my theme. You’ll see why.

Let’s jump right into this subject, which I am very excited to be done with early in the series because I don’t even like to think about it.  One of the primary diagnostic criteria for anxiety is the avoidance of the subject you are anxious about, including thinking or talking, or in my case, writing,  about that thing. This subject falls squarely within that criteria. You’ll notice that the needle on the Fearometer is way the hell over to the right. That’s how I roll with this particular anxiety, which, in my case, is actually a phobia. This fear will probably not lead to a complete panic attack, but it will almost definitely lead to leaping across a room in a single bound, screaming, and possibly diving into the sea without even checking for sharks.

I can think of situations regarding this subject that would push this needle right off the charts. All the way off.

Phobias, a very specific kind of anxiety,  are kind of interesting things, academically speaking. I mean, there are very common phobias people have like fear of heights, fear of flying, fear of snakes, fear of deep water, fear of being trapped, you know the drill. These phobias kind of make sense because some of these things could actually kill you if your Fran ‘the frontal’ Cortex is not in charge. So one can’t really blame Amy G. Dala for raising her voice about those things. After all, survival is her super power.

My phobia isn’t the kind people can really understand, however. It’s nothing as easy as a fear of heights (which I’m also not too crazy about). What I’m fearful of actually can’t kill me, unless I get disgusted to death which, I suppose, could happen.  I just get completely grossed out, my skin crawls, and I get lots of other really unpleasant visceral responses to a specific insect, the name of which I will not be typing due to my avoidance.

I’ll give you some easy hints: These are butt-ugly, disgusting, filthy, sometimes very big, have (shudder) long antennae, come out at night like monsters, are ubiquitous in the south and other hot places. Some of them fly. (Oh. My. God.) If you have one, you have a lot of them because they travel in giant herds. I can hardly bear to think about it. One time, in Nevada, I saw one that was easily 6 inches long. I kid you not. That’s right. Now you know what I’m talking about. I need to take a break from even writing this. Let me look at a picture of bug cuteness to bring my anxiety under control. Adorable! I love them.

I am so not afraid of these really cute bugs.

This is the kind of phobia that other people get irritated about. Phobias are annoying to almost everyone because sometimes they really don’t make much sense.  People will say things like, “Oh, Melissa. It’s just a bug! It’s not going to hurt you.”.  Those people should be extremely glad that I am A) generally non-violent  B) have never owned a firearm. FYI: “It’s not going to hurt you.” are words you should never say to someone who is in the midst of a phobic panic. This comes under the heading of using logic when Amy G. Dala is in charge.  You won’t be prepared for the level of rage that will erupt if those words are spoken. Besides, if that helped, don’t you think that person would have gotten over it? Sheesh. Don’t get me started.

I have had many bad experiences with these insects. Many. I’ve had bad experiences in Texas, Louisiana, New York, Indiana, Nevada, Mississippi… OK that’s all I can think of. But trust me! They were REALLY BAD. I could give you nightmares just telling you of them. How long have I had this phobia, you ask, assessing my level of sanity? As long as I can remember. I cannot remember a time when I could tolerate being around them. I have no idea what may have caused it, if anything. I mean, phobias are not always associated with real life events. They are not necessarily trauma induced. For example, lots of people are afraid of elevators, even though they have never been stuck in one and probably never will.

This spider is so adorable I would actually pet him and let him sit on my hand.

Incidentally, I am not afraid of other bugs. I am not afraid of spiders. I am not afraid of scorpions. I find them disgusting to look at and I certainly would never willingly pet one, but I do not get the same visceral response to them. I am not afraid of snakes, either, and I find almost all of the higher vertebrates to be charming. These bugs, however, are God’s way of reminding us that he also created evil. And it crawls among us. And multiplies. And I swear before you right now that if one ever gets on my beloved boat, I will abandon ship immediately until it, and any brethren it may have, are obliterated and sent straight to hell, from whence they came. This I do solemnly swear.

Distraction is a good way to calm Amy G. Dala down. So I’m posting photos of lovely bugs.

Want to hear one of my horror stories? Okay, here goes. I’m just going to be brace here. One time, in college,  my friends and I decided to explore the steam tunnels underneath the college. They were really cool in a steampunk-ish kind of way. Except for there were literally thousands of these creatures on all the surfaces. I still remember how it felt for them to crunch under my feet. (And now, just writing that, I have to get up and walk around and assure myself that there’s nothing under my feet here in my house.) This was a terrifying experience, and also gave me feelings of disgust that were just off the chart,  but no one was terrified or disgusted except me. I walked behind my then-boyfriend, using his body as a living shield hoping none of them would touch me.

Those tunnels looked like these that are under the Evergreen College campus here in WA state. I will not be visiting them. But you can see the article about them here:https://dailyevergreen.com/125179/news/campus-history-the-steam-tunnels-beneath-us/

He, of course, could not understand why I was in a panic to get out, tried to use his logic about the situation (stupid, stupid boy) and kind of laughed at me.He’s lucky he lived to tell about it.  (Yeah, I should have broken it off with him then and there. Reference the rage referred to above. Oh the errors of youth.)  As I recall, I finally escaped up out of the tunnels through a manhole cover in the middle of the street, trying to keep from touching the sides of the hole in case there were any lurking there. I’m not sure how long it took for me to feel clean again or to get a good night’s sleep after that. Probably I threw those clothes away.  (Mom, if you read this, well, there are lots of things about college you probably don’t want to know.)

In my formative adolescent years and early adulthood, I lost countless nights of sleep because I lived in places where I knew they would come creeping out at night. Like Louisiana, a place I have no desire to visit ever again, regardless of how lovely some places are there.  I knew they would get on my clothes; they would walk across my windowsill.  I was fearful of getting out of my bed to go to the bathroom. Those were some long nights.

Back to cute bugs that I like a lot.

So what’s a person with a full blown phobia to do? Sometimes these things really interfere with the kind of life you long to lead. I have had clients who have literally never been to Gig Harbor or beyond because they are too afraid to drive across a bridge. That’s a rough one! Imagine the beauty you would miss if were afraid to snorkel.

Personally, I have avoided traveling in countries where I might see them.  When we were planning a trip to Australia, I didn’t want my phobia to ruin our family trip (because everyone knows they hang out on every street corner in Australia, right?). So I decided to get treatment for the phobia through another therapist. She used EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization Reprocessing) to help me deal with it, and that helped a great deal. Actually, it’s probably the lingering effects of that therapy that allow me to even write this post and try to be amusing because in real life, it’s not very funny and if you were to laugh at me you could literally die from the rage death rays that would come out of my eyes. The therapy really did make a huge difference and if you have any kind of phobia, I encourage you to find someone who practices EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization Reprocessing). I survived the trip to Australia and had a really great time, even if I was still a little overly ‘interested’ in anything I might see crawling on the floor.

See that’s the thing about a phobia like this. There is always this heightened sense of awareness, like a person has special antennae of their own that are meant to seek out and locate anything that even MIGHT look similar to the feared object. See a cigar butt on the ground? Better look to be sure that’s all it is. Is that a moth on the wall at night? Are you SURE? I mean, it’s kind of oblong and brown, so better check. Did something move out of the corner of your eye while dining at a restaurant? Be sure to stare hard at that place to see that it’s actually nothing. Public bathrooms are the very worst. Even here in Washington State, if I see something on a bathroom floor that is fairly oblong and brown, I’m going to make sure it’s not a bug.

Obviously, I’m much better with this than I used to be.  And I already know how silly it is, so don’t bother to remind me. (Remember: death rays).  But I am already planning my approach to traveling in places where I know these insects lurk, just waiting to infest my beautiful boat and make me insane and get me eaten by sharks due to diving in without checking. Here’s my plan:

No marinas (hey, that’s a win/win for lots of reasons). Also less likely to get rats if no marinas.
Don’t anchor too close to the land when possible.
No cardboard on board.
Rinse all produce in the sea before bringing it on board.
Catch a couple of geckos and let them live aboard.
Hang sign on boat: Beware! Geckos!

Ugh. Now I’ve written about this I’m thinking maybe a little more EMDR before I go south.

Phobias are a real thing. Do you have one? I’d be surprised if lots of readers didn’t have phobias. What scares you like this, even if you don’t get super human jumping skills from it?

Tonight, I will think of this bug. This is the bug that will be in my mind.

Today we kick off 26 straight days of posts about anxiety and all the ways the anxious brain has of  interrupting your perfect state of zen. This first post will give some basic information so that you know that I am talking about ANXIETY, not about the rational kinds of everyday concerns that occasionally cause a sleepless night. Everyone worries sometimes.

Sure, it’s Lucy. She’s my favorite. I decided she makes a wonderful Amy G. Dala.

Anxiety is different in that it interferes with the daily pursuit of happiness almost all the time and over a long period of time.  It is different than having rational worries. You might, for instance, get worried about running out of money toward the end of the pay period. That worry may be completely reality based since you don’t bring in a big income and your expenses exceed your income regularly. You may worry and create a plan to deal with it, and then, when you get paid, the worry goes away. Over time, when you continue to survive each month, you may stop worrying about it because experience has taught you that you can handle it. Learning through experience is something that sets anxiety apart from worries.

With anxiety, the worry never stops and is not necessarily based in reality. Even if the rational mind knows that everything is fine, the anxious mind is on alert just in case the world ends.  Anxiety causes internal distress, even when there is no evidence  to create concern. It causes physical symptoms such as a rapid pulse, shallow breathing, upset stomach, light headedness, clammy skin,  and, for some people, severe panic symptoms that can feel as though death is imminent. People with anxiety are often very creative and imaginative. The problem is that their imagination easily gets out of hand and then goes to a dark, dark place. Anxiety is really like living with a bitch in your head. A bitch who rarely shuts up and is always looking at the dark side of life. 

Let’s illustrate how the anxious brain works by using a vastly simplified model involving two parts of the brain: the amygdala and the the frontal cortex. (If you want a little more brain-science-lite go to this interesting website.) These two areas of the brain are supposed to place nice together.  When they are both doing their jobs, the system works. Danger is averted, life events are taken in stride. The amygdala says, “That coiled thing over there looks like a snake.” The frontal cortex says, “Thanks! I will check that out. Oh, it’s only a badly coiled line. No worries.”  The amygdala says, “Thanks for checking.”  Then the amygdala, satisfied,  goes and drinks a margarita in celebration of a job well done.

Here’s another one: Let’s say you are the lone boat at anchor in a protected cove. The wind is a gentle breeze. The forecast is for a calm night.  The boat is tugging ever so gently, riding with the low swells and you hear the water tickling the hull. Let’s assume you aren’t new to this. You’ve been a boater for many years and you anchor out all the time. You’ve made sure the anchor is well set, the snubber is attached, the anchor alarm is on. The halyards are secured, there is nothing loose on the deck. The dinghy is up in its davits and secured. The anchor light is on. You sit below and listen to the music of the water and the wind and feel that all is well, secure in the knowledge that not only will the anchor alarm sound if you begin to drag, but that if the boat movement is ‘wrong’, you will feel it. You are serene in the knowledge that your amygdala and your frontal cortex play well together.

. This illustration, by Joe Lertola, appeared in Time Magazine in 6/10/2002. You can read the article here. Permission to use this has been requested.

But if you have anxiety, you are in for a rough night. In that case, you begin to perseverate on any number of things that could go wrong, may have been forgotten, or are likely to break. Maybe you check the anchor several times. You set and reset the anchor alarm. Maybe you check it 4 times. Perhaps you check it 6 times. Some anxious people have a ‘magic number’ of times they need to check things. You might feel like you need to sleep in the cockpit, just in case. If you have it really bad you get these increasingly dark narratives in your head. You imagine a seacock giving way suddenly. The bilge pump and the backup pump completely break down. The boat fills with water immediately and begins to sink like a stone. You just know that the boat is surrounded by man eating sharks and giant squid. They are out there. Waiting for you.  Life is so short, you wail in your own head. Your own mortality stares you in the face with bloodshot, unseeing eyes. See what I mean? That tricky anxious brain. Now you are in a real state.

By way of understanding how this disorder feels, let’s pretend that you have two alternate personalities living in your head. No, I’m not talking about “multiple personality disorder” (which isn’t even called that anymore anyhow). I’m just talking about the different parts of ourselves that every normal human being has.

Her name isn’t Ethel. It’s Fran. And she is generally not amused.

First, there is Fran “The Frontal” Cortex. She is a logical thinker, a problem solver, and likes to weigh options. She probably plays chess. Fran is a synthesizer of information, gathering facts from all over the place and then putting them to proper use. Her job is to see that everyone else stays in line and doesn’t get out of control. Fran could probably help Congress get along  if we let her. When people talk about ‘letting cooler heads prevail’, they are talking about Fran.

Fran is like the responsible older sibling who learned to suffer quietly through the tantrums of the younger, more voluble child; the one that took all the parent’s time and attention; the one that spends all the parent’s money; the one that required the ‘special’ soundproof room with rubber walls. That one. That’s the one who causes all the trouble. I said that anxiety is a bitch. Well, her name is Amy. In the anxious brain, she is simply out of control.

Her full name is Amy G. Dala, otherwise known as Amygdala. In the anxious brain, Amy takes on the world like a house on fire. Literally.  If she were playing ‘Family Feud’, Amy G. Dala would pounce on the buzzer before the question was even asked. If she were in school, she would answer questions before the teacher had finished talking. She talks over more measured and reasonable people and, in particular,  she hijacks Fran ‘The Frontal’ Cortex’s place in the conversation.

Once Amy really gets going there is no way to shut her up as she is on the rampage and all the stress hormones are on her side. They gang up on Fran and bully her unmercifully.  Amy talks over Fran and puts her hands over her ears screaming ‘I can’t hear you! I can’t hear you!’. Fran cannot get a word in edgewise, so she may as well leave the room and go drink a milkshake and read for awhile until Amy gets finished. That might be a long time. It might ruin your whole day.

If you have an overly sensitive Amy G. Dala, you might want to stay away from scary things.

Amy is a liar, too. She is a serial liar who makes up one story after another, each of them grounded in only a tiny possible grain of truth. Some are just pure dark fantasy.  Defying logic like some narcissists on parade in the news just now, she refuses to listen to even the most gentle correction. In fact, logic can make her almost insane with rage as she can make no sense of it. She has a very long memory, and, like your twisted ex-girlfriend, she can bring up even the most tangential evidence that proves her point at a moment’s notice. Don’t try to argue with her when she is in a rage. It’s not going to work.

Unfortunately, every time Amy is allowed to rage she gains a little more power. And this is one key to the imbalance between Amy and Fran. Fran can learn by reading. She can learn by talking and listening and imagining and all the other ways of higher beings. Real data can help Fran make decisions and sometimes, when Amy isn’t too upset, that can calm Amy down. But when she is out of control, forget it.

Fran grows stronger through experience, but she has multiple ways of learning. Cool reason is her super power. For instance, Fran realizes that the chances of being eaten by a shark are much, much less than the chances of getting in a terrible car accident. She swims in the sea with awareness, but not worry.

Amy, not so much. Amy knows people HAVE been attacked by sharks. In Amy’s mind, sharks exist, people swimming in the sea have been attacked by them, therefore if she swims in the sea, she will get attacked.  That is all.  Not only that, but  once she has learned something, it can become hard wired in her and she has trouble unlearning it.  If something bad happened one time, she will never let you forget it. Because that thing COULD happen again. Maybe the voice of Fran’s reason says it probably won’t, but Amy doesn’t play the odds. Amy is not a gambler. Amy plays to live. Amy’s super power is survival.

If Fran can get Amy to calm down before she gets riled up, disaster may be averted.

The thing about Amy G. Dala is that she has a very important job and she just takes it overly-seriously and takes control of the whole group. In the anxious brain, Amy always seems to act like she is the boss, like she is in charge of everything. We all know people like that. They are control freaks and we usually do not like them much. Also she is extremely smart and hypervigilant. Amy’s job is to warn us of danger. She is meant to keep us safe; to be out on the lookout for situations or people who might cause harm to us and to signal this to Fran so she can check it out and make a decision about it. And this is where it can all go horribly wrong.  The more power Amy G. Dala gets, the more out of balance the realationship between Fran and Amy is, the more Napoleanic Amy becomes. She becomes a tiny dictator out for blood.

When this happens, Amy begins to see every small problem as a crisis. If Amy were a fire fighter, she would act as though all the buildings were on fire when someone has only lighted a candle. If Amy were a medic, she would put people in body casts for broken fingernails, just in case.  Yes, the problem with Amy is that she just gets to be the most irritating kind of drama queen: the kind who never shuts up, is convinced she is right, and makes mountains out of every molehill in the yard. For too-powerful Amy, every little problem is a nail and requires a big hammer.

In the following days I’ll reveal to you just how Amy can interfere with an otherwise great day, especially out on the water and when a person is making a huge life transition.  I’ll share some professional tricks I have for calming her down. This was a pretty long post, so congratulations if you read all the way to here. See you tomorrow when we will discuss the letter B and what dastardly thing it stands for.

No, Amy, that’s not a good way to deal with anxiety.