How to Remember Coping Skills When You Can't Cope?

 So I've been struggling lately. 

I knew my anxiety was getting bad when the corners of the internet that are my escape from anxiety? They are causing me more anxiety.

Yes, I love going to Twitter or discord to find other people who love the same shows that I do, but what if what I have to say about them is stupid, irrelevant, off topic, too obvious, or too obscure... I should shut up, I should delete my post. Or, I should engage more, be more lively, create original content-- ugh, no! I should do more, I should stop trying so hard, ugh, or try harder or etc etc etc

I exhaust myself!

I swear I could have imposter syndrome at an imposter symposium.

But having my escape get colored with my anxiety was unpleasant enough that it forced me to pay attention. Realizing that there was no corner of my mind that was free from screeching, nails-on-chalkboard anxiety and distress sort of forced me to stop and observe.

I swear to god, nearly five years of therapy and I am still often so shook by step one.

Notice.

Am I anxious? Am I depressed? Disconnected? Sad? Disassociating? Angry? In physical pain? Hungry? Tired? Thirsty? Calm?

Stopping to notice what is going on with me-- it's not a natural thing for me. Stopping to notice some interesting brickwork or an usual flower? Of course. Stopping to jot down book titles from a window display or text a funny bumper sticker to a friend-- definitely. I can stop and notice those kinds of things-- ooh shiny! But to stop, apropos of nothing and say, like an actor,

"Yes but... how am *I* today?"

Ughhhh, so dull.

But.

I am struggling. I'm grim dregs, I'm the scrapings at the bottom of the barrel. I can't bear to think about the future. Or the past. Or...the present. 

It's a bit grim in here. 

When I'm struggling less, I dispense very good advice. 

"When you're struggling," I say, wisely, kindly, to Other people, who are Not Me, "reach out. The people around you want to support you."

"When you are struggling," I pontificate, "Take care of yourself like a dear pet. Feed yourself, brush yourself, dispense your flea medications, change your water, pick up the yuckies, take yourself for walkies."

"When you are struggling," I gently cajole, "Remember that things change. No matter how excruciating (the Japanese word KITSUI echoes in my head) things are right now, they are guaranteed to morph, evolve, recede, transform."

"When things are so painful," I press, "come into the moment. Come into your breath. Breathe for 20 counts. Come into your senses: notice what colors you see. Notice the sounds you hear. Notice the sensation of your body and bones settling onto the chair or floor or depression nest. Be a body."

"And hold on," I cheer, "Because there are moments of happiness in your future. Delicious foods, hilarious late night conversations, giddy obsessions, soothing holiday traditions, gratifying accomplishments-- those things have been in the past, and they will be in the future. Just hold still, stay alive, and they'll rise over the horizon and come to you."

Hahahaaaaaa, oh dear.

Last night I was so, so tired. I was sorting through old papers-- kids drawings and unused stationary and bank statements and utility bills and health records and notes from friends and postcards from our various travels. And seeing all the places I've lived and visited, and seeing the things that have flowed through my fingers-- money, moments, people, adventures, time-- 

I was telling myself insistent, wild, furious stories to explain the shape of my sadness and pain: All good things are past, and they are all tinged with terrible pain and loss. I am failing in the present, and the future holds no promise-- it was a classic horror disaster death spiral. 

I couldn't draw on any of that good advice. I couldn't even remember it. The person who knows how to get through tough times is not the same person who gets sucked into the vortex.

So...

I don't know.

I have to leave myself notes. Like an amnesiac, scrawl on my hand: "TAKE A BREATH, A NAP, AND A SHOWER."

So yeah.

If anyone asks, how am I doing?

Struggling.  

I hope that giving it a name and a blessing with tame it, just a bit, Rumplestilskin known. Less mad, less fey and dangerous. Just a benign haunt, and not a monster in the unknown.