Here's how this sort of thing used to go:
CHANGE! AAAAHHHHHHH! RUN AWAAAAAYYY!!
NOOOOO! WAAAAIITTT! I HAVE TO DO THIS BECAUSE IT'S MY JOB OR WHATEVER!
FUCK! I HATE MY LIFE! I CAN'T I CAN'T I CAN'TICAN'TICAN'TICAN'TICAAAAAN'T!!!!
I WILL JUST GO TO SLEEP INSTEAD! RIGHT HERE ON THE SIDEWALK!! OR MAYBE THIS BUS OR TRAIN OR PLANE I AM ON WILL CRASH AND I WON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT IT! OR MAYBE I WILL FIND A CAVE I CAN LIVE IN!!
OR NO! WAIT, I GUESS!
I WILL JUST SLOG THROUGH WHATEVER I HAVE TO DO TO GET THROUGH IT AT WORK AND THEN CRAWL UNDER A ROCK AS SOON AS I GET HOME AND SHUT DOWN COMPLETELY NOT TALK TO ANYONE AND HOPE THAT I SURVIVE IT!
HOPEFULLY NO ONE WILL NOTICE THAT I AM FREEEEEAKING OOUUUUT!!!!
Yeeeeeah. That was pretty much my constant inner dialogue for about 15 years. Wildly abbreviated, of course. And the voice was whispering. But WHISPERING IN UPPER CASE.
Or, at least, that's how I think of it now. At the time, I did not identify it as a voice from elsewhere-- a voice from not-me.
It was ME. I was IT.
I was that person who simply couldn't. It didn't matter that the evidence didn't fit the profile. It didn't matter that my "just enough" usually put me at the top of the class. It didn't matter that managed to earn a living, receive promotions, gain a few college degrees, all with a higher-than-average degree of success.
I couldn't. I was freaking out. I hoped nobody would notice. All the time, every day, forever, sure that I just didn't have what it took, sure that I just wasn't getting it done, worried, worried, worried.
Worried about what? Who knows? Everything! All of it!
Now remember, being of the PTSR variety, I got better and better at compartmentalizing this stuff, and separating my conscious, functioning self from this awful, savage well of worry.
In order to maintain the charade, I had to divorce myself from the feelings, right?
So I floated above it. I'm picturing this as a physical separation, like the way liquids separate-- oil from water, cream from milk, fat from broth-- and one thin layer will float atop the rest.
Yep, that was me, floating on a thin layer of bland, boring congealed fat over a big pot of rich, tasty broth below. Missing all the flavor.
/soup metaphor
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But this ain't our first rodeo, is it? We've been some places and done some things, you and I, and these days, when I'm in one of those stages where positive things are happening but my body is reacting in a negative way, it looks a little something like this:
Me: Hmmmm... my anxiety is dialed up to 11. I feel very, very anxious.
Me: I will seek out a doctor and therapeutic methods and/or medications to address my anxiety.
Me: This anxiety is the result of my lizard brain's constant hyper-vigilance, which is the result of my PTSR, which I still do not have under control. However, I have done enough therapy work that I am becoming more aware of my emotional reactions and anxiety is one of those, so I am starting to feel the anxiety as an emotion, rather than just react to it.
Me: Anxiety feels really uncomfortable. I don't like this feeling.
Me: But I am feeling something. Feelings are normal. I might just be feeling uncomfortable because I am not used to feeling anything at all, not because this is necessarily inherently uncomfortable.
Me: Let's just sit with that thought for a while.
Me:...
Me: Well, it still sucks, and I'm all jumpy. Why might I be feeling anxious? What is going on that is new?
Me: Well, I'm doing all my usual stuff, but I am also engaging quite a bit with a few new writing projects, including one really cool one with a beloved friend, who has asked me to collaborate with him on a screenplay development project that is pretty amazing.
I have never done anything like this before, and I don't really know what I'm doing, but it's about a subject close to my heart and it's a story that really deserves to be told, and it's rich and relevant and beautiful and full of such potential and it's inspired me to a new level of thought and creativity.
He asked me if I was interested in talking to him about it, and I started to reply with a list of disclaimers: I've never done this before; I might not be the best person for this; there are people far more qualified... and then I thought, he asked me if I wanted to talk to him about it, and I do. And I want to learn about this, and I want to contribute to this, and I want to help him capture his vision for this, and I'll answer the question I've been asked and see where it goes from there, and let magic happen, instead of hiding away before I even give myself a chance.
So I simply said yes.
And that, oh that, to be sure, was new.
Me: So. The parts of my reaction to this that are governed by my conscious and intellectual mind are excited and motivated. I'm brainstorming, researching, engaged. Because this is a positive development.
My lizard, brain, however, is sending up five-alarm disaster signals. RED ALERT! RED ALERT! SOMETHING HAS UPSET THE BALANCE!
Me: So my anxiety has gone up to 11, but the reaction is waaaaay out of proportion to the cause. I need to do something to try to bring it down to a more reasonable level.
Me: Oh god. Mindfulness. That's what you're going to say, isn't it. Shit. Not mindfulness again! But it's so haaaaaaaaard!
Me: Shut up and breathe.
Breathe...
Breathe...
Breathe...
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All this work? It's really working, you guys.
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