1. Medication
2. Therapy
3. Vices
4. Support system
Note: the relevancy of these coping mechanisms are not always in that order of importance and effectiveness.
ALL THE PILLS?
My sister recently posted a link to this article about how not to say the wrong thing. It's about dumping out and putting compassion in regarding how close you are to the traumatic event. I found this not only to be true with regards to trauma, but with regards to a large majority of other aspects of how we live our daily lives.For example, when my director bitched to me nonstop about how he didn't want to be at work, yet made 25 grand more than I did. Or how, when talking to my friend--who is fundraising for two causes, one of which is for her best friend who was just diagnosed with cancer--I probably shouldn't complain to her that the dog kept me up all night.
But we all have issues in our lives that are valid to us. And it's important to find the right place to "dump out " and the right place to put compassion in.
DON'T BE THIS GUY.
Unfortunately, my sanity doesn't always let me put the compassion into myself or rational thoughts. For example, after my father died, I started having panic attacks and social phobia. I kept thinking I'd be judged everywhere I went. I started delaying my onset into the public eye, and ended up showing up late anywhere from 15 minutes to 3 hours.
After lots of drinking, drugs, medication, and therapy (and about 8 years), the panic attacks went away.
And then I started this fucking triathlon training.
I've found that trading one devil for a more shiny devil has done well for my productivity....up to a point. Working out to gain personal self-esteem is great.... until I push myself too hard and end up in physical therapy for a few years. Coffee is good.... until I have a panic attack. And overcoming challenges is great....until you encounter a long-time phobia that keeps pulling you down.
NEVER GONNA GET TO THE TOP.
Enter the fact that I understand logic. I do. I get it. Which is why for the most part, fear and I have a fairly okay relationship. I am afraid of rational things. There's not a boogie man under my bed, but there COULD be a guy in the alley who wants to rape and/or rob me. Maybe even one who wants to eat my face. There's movies about shit like this that I have no intention of ever watching. I can't even hear the movie from another room. (Seriously, I can't handle it. Ask my old roomie, Jackson.)
THIS IS ME DURING ANY AND ALL HORROR MOVIES.
So, when I agreed to do a triathlon, I never thought that the "7-year-old me" who was afraid of lakes would still rear her ugly face as soon as I started swimming in open water. I mean, I'm good til the water hits my knees, and then, really, there's not a good reason to HAVE to go in any deeper, let alone put my face into the water to see all the frightening things at the bottom, so I usually only wade calf-deep in the lake.
IT LOOKS SERENE. DO NOT BUY IT.
THERE'S SCARY SHIT IN THERE.
And after five months of training, I've been frightened A LOT while swimming. Including twice when I almost shit my wetsuit. By a scary monster? Nope. By (1) a floor mat that apparently flew out someone's window into the harbor and (2) a plastic bag floating in the water. In my defence, the water also had minnows, which I'm sure you know are dangerous? Yes, both EXCEPTIONALLY frightening items.
SEE YOU THOUGHT IT WAS SAFE, SUCKER.
THAT'S HOW YOU'RE DEAD AND I'M SAFELY ON SHORE.
But the seaweed. And the rocks. And the fear that there's a dead body under me.
Yes, you heard that right. A dead body.
Why a dead body? Because CSI. Because I lived downtown Indy where bodies were always being fished out of the "Brown" (White) River down the street. Because I watch the news and know that bodies are occasionally fished out of Lake Michigan. Because when I was 7ish, I watched my father participate in a human drag of the swimming area at Shakamak State Park, and I figured out that they were trying to see if the boy had drowned BY STEPPING ON HIS BODY. (Don't worry--he wasn't dead--he was getting ice cream and got his ass beat something fierce by his granny. This was Indiana in the '80s where we still beat kids rather than hug them for not being dead.)
Fast forward 27 years and I still have a fear of dead bodies. And fish. Both alive and dead. But clearly these are not rational thoughts. I tried to tell myself all the rational things I needed to be able to survive the Tri, but still, I'd get into the lake and either freeze in place or keep going and finally get out, feeling whoozy and disoriented since I'd had pure adrenaline coursing through my veins for A FUCKING HOUR AT THAT POINT.
AIN'T NO "BREATHE THROUGH IT" AT THIS POINT.
My friends and family, bless their hearts, listened to me and my fears for five months and gave me plenty of support and rational thoughts to focus on:
- "Imagine the dead bodies are chasing you, and you'll just swim faster." --my friend Sarah
- "They drag the lake. You're fine." --Boyfriend (aka, Nick)
- "You'll be swimming in 10 feet of water with hundreds of other people. You'll be fine. Besides, the bodies won't be able to touch you." --My brother
IT LOOKS MENACING BECAUSE IT IS.
I always came back with irrational answers:
- "Sarah, they can't chase me. Just float up after weeks of being down there. I watch CSI. I know how this works."
- "You're lying to me. I've been swimming out there for WEEKS and I've NEVER seen them drag the lake once."
- "But what if the bodies are in the seaweed and float up right as I've gone over them because the rest of the people in front of me created enough current to loosen their entanglement and then one floats up near me?!?!"
My swim coach, bless his heart, helped me slow down my swim, breathe through my anxiety, and take 5 deep breaths out and 4 deep breaths in any time I got really stuck. I also flipped on my back....A LOT. Backstroke is completely legal in triathlons, and since I wasn't really trying to win the damn things, I took advantage of it.
In the end, I practiced a LOT in the lake at Ohio Street, some at Ladder 1, some at the Jarvis stop, and slowly got over my fears...ish.
"Oh silly seaweed, you go in my facemask, not my hair!"
I swam a bit with my face in the water at the Chicago Triathlon, but there were SO MANY PEOPLE. I ended up flipping on my back and probably pissing off a lot of people (and better swimmers who could swim around me, so NOT all that broken up about it). Also, the seaweed was SO BAD that I felt like I was swimming through nets made of the shit. So, I made it through my fear, only to have my bike break. WAMP WAMP MOTHAFUCKIN WAMP. So I signed up for Lake Geneva....that swims STRAIGHT INTO THE LAKE, no "Harbor's just 10 feet away" shit there.
For Lake Geneva, I started on my belly, swam a bit, and then flipped over when the seaweed freaked me out. Then, when the seaweed had disappeared, I flipped over and swam on my belly again. I had to swim freestyle a bit near the boat ramp (ie, seaweed, rocks, freaky things that remind me of a dead body being chained up), but at this point, five months of training in....I just kept swimming. AND I FINISHED THE TRI. (Which is another blog....to come.)
So, if you're a freakshow like me, and you have an irrational fear, MAKE YOURSELF CONFRONT IT. For fear of lakes, practice getting in there, getting in the deep end, learn what you like (to be able to see into the water or not? when it's dark out or when you can see the sunbeams into the lake?) and just deal with it.
