Diana-M
Beloved Grand Eagle
3 days till my trip to the beach. I knew these days would be hard. Claire Weekes talks about it in her audiobook, Freedom From Nervous Suffering. She says the days preceding a trip will be the worst, as far as anxiety. And I’ve known this to be true throughout my life because I’ve had anxiety my whole life. But now I have TMS and anxiety.
My body is throwing everything it’s got at this to keep me in this house— even this morning to keep me in bed. My pain and stiffness level is very high, but worse than that, my temptation for fear is very high too.
I need to get out a piece of paper and look at my thinking. There’s a lot of self-pity and catastrophizing going on here. Like I always say, this battle is extremely mental. If you can win the mental, you can win the physical.
I feel like a child; my husband has to pack me. We have all this equipment for me to be able to move around. He has to do so much work, just to get us there. I can’t stand it. (Lots to journal about here.) But, if I’m not willing to go through what it takes to do things out of my house —to do things out of my comfort zone— I might as well dig a hole and call it. I know, without a doubt the only way out is through. And, I’m going through.
One thing that gives me hope is last week when I was thinking about the beach trip— just thinking about it— my symptoms subsided more than they have since I got them. What was my primitive brain saying here? Go to the beach? I’ll be turning up these thoughts today— happy beach thoughts.
My body is throwing everything it’s got at this to keep me in this house— even this morning to keep me in bed. My pain and stiffness level is very high, but worse than that, my temptation for fear is very high too.
I need to get out a piece of paper and look at my thinking. There’s a lot of self-pity and catastrophizing going on here. Like I always say, this battle is extremely mental. If you can win the mental, you can win the physical.
I feel like a child; my husband has to pack me. We have all this equipment for me to be able to move around. He has to do so much work, just to get us there. I can’t stand it. (Lots to journal about here.) But, if I’m not willing to go through what it takes to do things out of my house —to do things out of my comfort zone— I might as well dig a hole and call it. I know, without a doubt the only way out is through. And, I’m going through.
One thing that gives me hope is last week when I was thinking about the beach trip— just thinking about it— my symptoms subsided more than they have since I got them. What was my primitive brain saying here? Go to the beach? I’ll be turning up these thoughts today— happy beach thoughts.
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