The Cycle

It’s a vicious cycle. It’s a cliche saying, yes, but it’s also true. It’s vicious in that it is dangerously aggressive.  It is cyclical in that it is regularly repeated.  The vicious cycle is a sequence of events that creates a new problem that exacerbates an existing problem.  It is indeed violent, savage, and brutal. Vicious. Cycle. 

The other night, I felt something on my neck just below my ear. It felt bumpy, squishy, and puffy almost like a bulging vein. I’d never felt it before and I tried to pass it off as just another tight muscle, but my mind wouldn’t let me do that. Was it a vein? Is that why I constantly hear my heartbeat in my left ear? Am I going to have a stroke? Is it a blood clot? 

No, Val. You’re going to the worst case scenario again. You know the stress causes you to get tense and causes muscle tightness and pain. Don’t do this to yourself. 

It was a battle between my rational and irrational minds and for about the first thirty minutes, I allowed my thoughts to get caught up in the irrational fear and let it control my thinking. The shallow breathing began. I wanted to Google my symptoms, but I didn’t even know what to type into a search bar. I’ve done this too many times before. 

When Jay got home from work, I made him feel it. 

Val, I’m not a doctor. I don’t know what I’m looking for. 

Just feel it. What does it feel like? Do you feel that? 

Val, I don’t feel anything. 

Right there. Let me put your finger on it.

I don’t know, Val. It feels like a swollen muscle. I’m not a doctor. You have to stop this.

I took a few deep breaths and started to write. I was able to bring myself out of it in a relatively short period of time only having suffered with this particular ailment for a little over an hour. That’s an improvement. Something like this would have lasted days, if not weeks, in the past and this time I was able to let it go in about an hour.

I don’t remember exactly where or how the cycle started, but I do know it continues to circle. I can’t say whether I feel anxious first and then experience a physical symptom, or if I first experience a physical symptom and then that makes me anxious. I do know that to try to get through the panic and the fear of dying, I turn to food to alleviate the symptoms, whether they are physical or mental.  After I binge, I feel sick to the point where I have actually thrown up in my mouth. I feel disgusting and fat and I can’t breathe because I’ve stuffed so much. But, at least in that moment, I don’t have to focus on the anxiety or the pain in my neck that is inevitably a brain tumor. I focus on the fullness from the food. The heartburn. The bloat.  The guilt.  It’s a distraction. It really doesn’t matter if the physical symptom came first or as a result of the anxiety. Either way, I’m in a whirlwind of anxiety, physical symptoms, and binging and they all feed into each other, cycling without forward movement, stationary like a piece of exercise equipment that offers no progress.  I don’t remember where or how it started, but I’m spinning feverishly knowing that I need to jump off yet simultaneously fearing the fall.

Many people don’t understand this cycle.  They don’t understand the pain, the lack of control, the hopelessness and despair that accompanies it.

But, you’re smart.

You have a good job.

You’re healthy.

Your son is happy and healthy.

You have a husband who loves you.

You have supportive family and friends.

You have a good life.

You have nothing to be anxious about.

Just relax. 

Just calm down. 

Just stop overthinking everything.

Just drink more water.

Just stop eating. 

Just cut carbs. And sugar. And fat.

Just exercise more.

Just count your calories.

Just have surgery.

Just shake it off.

For many years, these comments have been the reason I have chosen to suffer in silence, to not share my innermost thoughts and fears and experiences. Because I have been told repeatedly that I have nothing to be anxious about, that all I need to do is just stop thinking and worrying and eating.  That I have nothing to worry about because I have a good life.  That I JUST need to STOP and it will all go away. That I’m just a paranoid hypochondriac.  All of which translates to:

It’s all my fault.

There’s something wrong with me.

I have no self control.

I am to blame.

I am not worthy.

I am not enough.

I am fat. And pathetic.

But now, I realize those comments are made in ignorance.  Perhaps, sometimes, it’s a good-intentioned ignorance.  People are trying to help, but don’t know what to say, or they feel like they have to say something instead of just being there. Perhaps they don’t understand mental illness or have an aversion to it. Or, maybe they don’t believe it actually exists.  For whatever reason people make those comments and for however well-intentioned they may be, they have contributed to the negative thought patterns I have had and the negative perception of myself that has pervaded my life. But, I have the choice to continue to let those comments affect me.  I have the choice to allow them to continue to tear me down and feed my insecurities. Or, I can choose to acknowledge them and realize those comments don’t define me. Their lack of knowledge and understanding doesn’t make me less than. Neither does the anxiety or the eating disorder. 

The vicious cycle can end if I make the decision to jump off, knowing that the choice doesn’t end with the fall.  The initial jump will be scary, but not having that cycle to jump back on at any given moment will be even more terrifying.  But, overcoming that fear, taking that jump and trusting that I will be able to get back up even though I may get knocked down a few times, will be key in ending the cycle.  It will free me from pedaling round and round until I get so dizzy I eventually pass out. So my goal for today is not to completely end the cycle. It’s to identify when I’m in it and stop circling. And maybe today I won’t jump off. Maybe today I’ll just stop pedaling, stand up, and walk away from it. It’s not as dramatic as a jump, but it’s movement forward.