In answer to Beth's question in yesterday's comments, about what I mean by 'a... feeling of anxious resistance to life': well, I guess most of the time I go around feeling that I'd rather not be here, protecting myself, permanently convinced that I 'can't do this' and would prefer not to have to try, even though I usually can do whatever it is without problem. This stance of withdrawal, not wanting to be present, has been with me as long as I can remember, since I was two or three years old. I think it began as withdrawal from the demands of a very controlling, disciplinarian mother, which I could only meet with helpless rage, for which I was punished and guilt-tripped, feeling trapped and no way out. The only thing that has ever undermined this at all (apart from really overwhelming experiences and emotions, as I was reminded by recent grief) is meditation, because meditation is primarily practising being present. That is basically why meditation has been such a profound thing for me. So, Beth, I think your question tapped into something fundamental.
Jean, thank you for being so honest and direct. I understand much better what you meant now. I've shared that feeling, at least somewhat, during times of prolonged stress when I felt trapped and could see no way out. It seems like a natural way to react, and practicing awareness always helps me, though sometimes that means being more aware of the dark stuff too.
Yes, Jean, thanks for clarifying what you meant, and thanks too for the honesty/courage it takes to articulate this.
I often struggle with what I refer to as "fetal ball syndrome": a nonspecified anxiety about life & my (in)ability to deal with it. I call it FBS because when the feeling is strong, all I want to do is curl up in a ball and wait for life to pass by without me. Of course, curling up in a ball doesn't help anything, so my Inner Extrovert comes out & fakes her way through the anxiety...but I know it's there.
The only thing I've found that helps me with FBS is to bring myself back to whatever I can do right now. When I'm feeling like hiding, it's usually because I'm overwhelmed by "all" the things I have to do, "all" my imperfections, "all" the things I "should" be doing, etc. It helps to rein my thoughts back in my focusing on what I need to do right here & now...but it's hard. The temptation to crawl into bed with the covers over my head is definitely strong!
Well, I learned, slowly, to stay out from under the bedcovers most of the time - physically, at least. What worries me more these days is the times when it's only my body out there and my mind and/or emotions have retreated, the challenge of bringing them all together.
Wow, it's amazing that we're talking about this. Lorianne, I love your acronym, "FBS"! I felt that way during so much of my mother's illness - except that I called it "Anywhere But Here" in my own head - there is the FBS desire, but I also have a strong escape desire - to get in the car and drive as far, far away as I can. Must be profoundly American! But like you, I have learned to fake it. My WASPy mother and grandmother always told me to "rise above it," which meant whatever's happening and no matter how lousy I felt, I was supposed to cope and get out there and do what I needed to do. To some extent I think that's actually healthy and helpful, so long as you're not repressing the real stuff that you need to work on and deal with, alone or in relationships. They were VERY good at not doing the latter, and in avoiding conflict at all costs. I think conflict (or potential conflict) is the #1 trigger for FBS and ABH for me.
Yes, I tended to "fetal ball" when faced with conflict in my marriage: I'd do anything to avoid it. These days, though, my FBS is more closely associated with performance anxiety: I often have a mini-panic attack before teaching, and the thought of how my actual teaching falls woefully short of my own perfect ideals is enough to make me want to hide in my office rather than head into the classroom.
So for me, FBS is intricately connected to perfectionism, to which Zen is a handy antidote: it's not about teaching perfectly; it's about "just teaching" however you can & trusting that's enough.
I just got back from campus, where today's meditation group was punctuated by the back & forth of a soda delivery guy carting crates of beverages into the dorm where we practice. It was funny to sit while he literally rolled a cart right in back of us, back & forth...but everyone was quiet & incredibly patient, thereby demonstrating that you can meditate just about anywhere if you put your mind to it.
It did make me awfully thirsty for a soda, though! :-)
Marking time. I'm here under (inaudible) protest. My body may be here but my spirit is elsewhere.
That's my version of it. The level of dissociation from my work that I managed to achieve in the last few years is pretty extraordinary.
Now that I'm out of the job, I still have the habits of mind to undo. Very very difficult. For me, too, meditation is the only thing that helps much. Habits of mind that ingrained can't really be addressed by sporadic thinking and the making of resolutions.
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In answer to Beth's question in yesterday's comments, about what I mean by 'a... feeling of anxious resistance to life': well, I guess most of the time I go around feeling that I'd rather not be here, protecting myself, permanently convinced that I 'can't do this' and would prefer not to have to try, even though I usually can do whatever it is without problem. This stance of withdrawal, not wanting to be present, has been with me as long as I can remember, since I was two or three years old. I think it began as withdrawal from the demands of a very controlling, disciplinarian mother, which I could only meet with helpless rage, for which I was punished and guilt-tripped, feeling trapped and no way out. The only thing that has ever undermined this at all (apart from really overwhelming experiences and emotions, as I was reminded by recent grief) is meditation, because meditation is primarily practising being present. That is basically why meditation has been such a profound thing for me. So, Beth, I think your question tapped into something fundamental.
Jean, thank you for being so honest and direct. I understand much better what you meant now. I've shared that feeling, at least somewhat, during times of prolonged stress when I felt trapped and could see no way out. It seems like a natural way to react, and practicing awareness always helps me, though sometimes that means being more aware of the dark stuff too.
Yes, Jean, thanks for clarifying what you meant, and thanks too for the honesty/courage it takes to articulate this.
I often struggle with what I refer to as "fetal ball syndrome": a nonspecified anxiety about life & my (in)ability to deal with it. I call it FBS because when the feeling is strong, all I want to do is curl up in a ball and wait for life to pass by without me. Of course, curling up in a ball doesn't help anything, so my Inner Extrovert comes out & fakes her way through the anxiety...but I know it's there.
The only thing I've found that helps me with FBS is to bring myself back to whatever I can do right now. When I'm feeling like hiding, it's usually because I'm overwhelmed by "all" the things I have to do, "all" my imperfections, "all" the things I "should" be doing, etc. It helps to rein my thoughts back in my focusing on what I need to do right here & now...but it's hard. The temptation to crawl into bed with the covers over my head is definitely strong!
Well, I learned, slowly, to stay out from under the bedcovers most of the time - physically, at least. What worries me more these days is the times when it's only my body out there and my mind and/or emotions have retreated, the challenge of bringing them all together.
Wow, it's amazing that we're talking about this. Lorianne, I love your acronym, "FBS"! I felt that way during so much of my mother's illness - except that I called it "Anywhere But Here" in my own head - there is the FBS desire, but I also have a strong escape desire - to get in the car and drive as far, far away as I can. Must be profoundly American! But like you, I have learned to fake it. My WASPy mother and grandmother always told me to "rise above it," which meant whatever's happening and no matter how lousy I felt, I was supposed to cope and get out there and do what I needed to do. To some extent I think that's actually healthy and helpful, so long as you're not repressing the real stuff that you need to work on and deal with, alone or in relationships. They were VERY good at not doing the latter, and in avoiding conflict at all costs. I think conflict (or potential conflict) is the #1 trigger for FBS and ABH for me.
Yes, I tended to "fetal ball" when faced with conflict in my marriage: I'd do anything to avoid it. These days, though, my FBS is more closely associated with performance anxiety: I often have a mini-panic attack before teaching, and the thought of how my actual teaching falls woefully short of my own perfect ideals is enough to make me want to hide in my office rather than head into the classroom.
So for me, FBS is intricately connected to perfectionism, to which Zen is a handy antidote: it's not about teaching perfectly; it's about "just teaching" however you can & trusting that's enough.
I just got back from campus, where today's meditation group was punctuated by the back & forth of a soda delivery guy carting crates of beverages into the dorm where we practice. It was funny to sit while he literally rolled a cart right in back of us, back & forth...but everyone was quiet & incredibly patient, thereby demonstrating that you can meditate just about anywhere if you put your mind to it.
It did make me awfully thirsty for a soda, though! :-)
Marking time. I'm here under (inaudible) protest. My body may be here but my spirit is elsewhere.
That's my version of it. The level of dissociation from my work that I managed to achieve in the last few years is pretty extraordinary.
Now that I'm out of the job, I still have the habits of mind to undo. Very very difficult. For me, too, meditation is the only thing that helps much. Habits of mind that ingrained can't really be addressed by sporadic thinking and the making of resolutions.
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