When we had dinner at Longhorn (the night you launched this Substack, if I recall correctly) I was actually working through one of mine. I told myself if it worked out naturally so that I was seated with a good view of the door, fine, but I wasn't going to ask for a special table or move seats or anything. (I have been known to wait significantly longer, to the point of managers being summoned to talk to me about WTF is wrong, to get a table where my back is not to the door, nobody will be walking behind me en route to the kitchen or bathroom, and I have a good view of all exits.) I have played the deaf card a few times to explain this, but the truth is that if I turn my hearing aids all the way up, nobody can sneak up on me in a restaurant. It's just anxiety. When I got there, you had the perfect table claimed (which helped!) but of course I was sitting across from you, back to the door. I reminded myself a couple of times that I could trust you, so if anything bad was approaching the table you would both react and warn me, and that it would be fine. Which it was. :-)
That's fun to know, finding out after the fact that you were doing that. I've done similar, of course not revealing that to whoever is keeping me company ('this muthafucka is CRAZY').
And yes, it was the night I started this Substack. Because you had the idea, and engineered it so that I was gently pushed to do it. It worked!
I have said, only half jokingly, that someone needs to start an app to send gay men out for various errands. You're too young for the one I always mention first for that idea (uncomplicated hugs on demand--dudes need to be grandparent age for that work, I think) but you've just given me an idea.
We need a catchy one word name for an app that sends a fucked-up friend to be with a fucked-up person to do stuff. Someone who can choose the right table in a restaurant, pick up on small tells of PTSD triggering in progress, knows when to make a dark-humor joke about past horror, and can step up and argue an incorrect charge or whatever when such mundane self-advocacy tasks are just Too Much Right Now. It would be a small, but very loyal and niche, customer base. LMAO.
LMAO -- DoorDash for the Damaged. OMG, that's perfect. YFUF: DoorDash for the Damaged. (YFUF = Your Fucked-Up Friend). And yeah, you're too young for my Big $ Idea. I had it during the "pandemic." Most of the people I knew or talked to online who really suffered the loneliness actively (as opposed to just drinking more/taking more drugs) were single women who lived alone. But having male company was risky because if he was going to have to quarantine for two weeks he expected to get laid, at the very least. That was what gave me the idea for an app that would send a grandpa-looking gay dude over to have dinner and hang out. Three hug minimum, LOL.
"Preferred seating" was one of my disability accommodations in college -- one of the four I accepted (I think they offered me something like fifty, no joke). Never could push myself much in school, because I needed all my cognitive energy for calculus, number theory, etc., and had none left over for pushing myself.
And I am so glad you're doing this--your show demonstrates your gift for writing ably, but it's fun to get to read you sometimes, too.
I relate, though it manifests differently for me. When I go out to eat I usually prefer to have my back to the other patrons, even if it means not being able to see the door. I don't like feeling visible during a meal. When my anxiety was at its worst, I also couldn't stand brightly lit restaurants -- again, too visible. So much of this has improved for me once I figured out Cluster B, but I suspect there will always be shades/remnants.
My mom has a phobic fear of the Tappan Zee. She even worries whenever anyone in our family drives over it. I'm okay with the TZ. I did have a panic attack on top of the pyramid at Chichen Itza -- climbed up, got to the top, looked down, freaked out. Fun!
I'm not sure I'd do it now! I definitely wouldn't have done it a few years ago. I was 21 and less damaged when I did... I've made a *partial* recovery. It was utterly terrifying -- the steps are such that going up feels easy and not very steep, but looking down is petrifying. There were many wild American tourist children darting all around me, which made it worse. I read that they no longer allow people to climb it!
I have zero fear of heights as I’ve used ladders at work and skied and climbed mountains all of my life but I too climbed the pyramid at Chichen Itza and was also freaked out going down those steep steps with nothing but a thin worn rope to guide me. My legs ached for days and if I remember correctly there were only 91 steps.
I have a heights phobia, too, but mostly just pertaining to climbing ladders or stairways that are open on all sides. Pretty mild as far as phobias are concerned. I visited the The Willis Tower, a 108-story, 1,450-foot skyscraper in Chicago. The observation deck is glass on all sides including the floor. My friend cajoled me into it and I nearly feinted from terror. I hate rollercoasters and other amusement part rides that have height as a feature, and usually won't do them. Kudos to you for forcing yourself to find coping strategies to deal with your phobia.
Excellent story. Good for you. I stopped flying. My sisters, who put our mother in a small hospice room for a year (she wasn't that sick-illegal where I live in upstate NY--legal in Wisco) aren't worth it. My grandfather, ironically an immigrant from Norway, had such terrible fear of heights that my Uncle Lars had to take over driving (he was barely old enough) when they drove West over the Rockies to see (other Norwegian) relatives.
Since my then-husband betrayed me, lied, pretended, went awol (yup, super cluster B, like deserves a special label) and etc to "be a woman full-time" and got our kids to do erasure like calling him Mom and me by my first name, I got panic attacks. I actually thought I had heart disease. I try to memorize sections of Mozart and Beethoven to run in my mind when I feel the dreads coming on. I developed a set of floor movements to feel connected to muscles of abdominal wall, which is grounding, esp when breathing deeply to push away the dreads, close out the peripheral anxiety.
The world has gone nuts, I'm called a bigot (even been called a racist for no reason--my closest neighbors and friends are minorities who believe sex matters) I try to memorize little soundtracks of hearing their little kids in the next door yard and put it into my mind when I fear that my ex-husband's crew will come and burn down my house and rip up my garden, were I memorize moments of joy, like seeing two monarchs in mating dances. A book to help w the PTSD: Transforming Trauma by Dr. James Gordon. I don't do the whole plan, but adapt the concepts. Nature heals. She really does. I've been there. I've had to get myself off of the k. I thought it would get worse as I got older, but I'm better. Keep writing about it. Even the horrible childhood stuff. It makes you feel awful temporarily, but then is off of the back burner of your mind. Be proud of yourself for putting this out. You are on your way. Contact me through my blog if you are near Hudson Valley (bridges, yeah) and I'll give you a tour.
When I was 24 I climbed Table Mountain. There is a picture of me on a large platform where I am desperately holding onto the side of the mountain. I was so afraid of heights that I needed to hold onto something at any given point in time. My fear of heights has gotten worse.
There was a time where I went with exposure therapy; defined and instructed by myself. It was sometimes a disaster.
One a ski trip a few years ago my ski instructor abandoned me at the ski lift to support a different student who appeared to need more help. They jumped on the lift before me. And when it was my turn I panicked and ran away (as much as you can run with skis) and waited at the bottom of the mountain crying.
I have by now what used to be a cutesy fear of spiders an irrational fear of them.
When I was in the midst of a cluster B relationship to my narcissistic ex I was what is know to be hypervigilance. I was constantly on hyper alert. Could not tolerate loud noises, messes, or situations of uncertainty. I was not pleasant to be around. Everything around me needed to be perfect before I could relax. 4 years after kicking my narcissistic husband out of the house, I feel a lot less stress. The hypervigilance is gone for the most part. When it comes back during high stress times, I am in shock how I survived this form of being for so long and I am happy that I did not suffer greater health consequences. During the height of my hypervigilance I developed hives and one time had to be rushed to the hospital with face swelling that would not go down. The only two fears now are the fear of height and spiders that remained. I can live with these much better. I learned to tolerate messes. I learned to tolerate noise. I have not had hives since. Other health issues have been reduced, too.
The clarity you are showing in describing your situation is fantastic. I wish you good luck on your journey and also the courage to voice what you need, so you are not throwing a temper tantrum at the ski lift like I did; it is sometimes easier to show anger than fear.
I know all about the psychological and medical health effects of stewing in a Cluster B house. It's no surprise that you had so many somatic and nervous complaints. Very much like my experience.
And yes, these types of phobias tend to get worse as we age, frustratingly. I wish you luck in finding anything that helps, Ines.
Yesterday I had a moment where I was back at my old behavior. I received a call from a service I had just cancelled. They inquired why I wanted to cancel and if there was anything they can do better. I told them, I was not happy with the service for XYZ reason and that I already made up my mind and no longer wanted to talk about this. The person on the other line kept on the topic and asked why. I repeated, I no longer wanted to talk. And she kept asking if I wanted the service for free. And I said way more loudly than I needed to: “I do not want to talk about this anymore. Now you are making me angry.” I really lack the ability to set clean boundaries. This was one example where I should have just said goodbye and hung up instead of waiting for the other person to change her behavior and what she was clearly instructed to do. I hate myself when I “overreact” instead of just setting the boundaries needed. Sigh. Always fight or flight mode.
Oh, I'm afraid of heights, too. Even climbing the ladder to the attic makes me feel woozy.
My bridge is The Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge (also known as The Cooper River Bridge, Ravenel, and The Coaster) which connects Mount Pleasant to downtown Charleston, SC.
The bridge has eight lanes and spans two and a half miles. One would find that terrifying enough, but wait! There's more!
It's nickname, "The Coaster", is the result of not one, but two large hills you must conquer to cross. The anxiety I feel atop the first hill is exacerbated by the knowledge another awaits. By the time I make the descent into Charleston, I'm exhausted. Relieved, but exhausted.
Fantastic writing, as always. I looked up the Tappan Zee Bridge. Holy smokes! Funny, most of my childhood nightmares involved bridges just like this. Shiver.
I can relate. I have battled a driving phobia for years. Bridges and even overpasses can be a challenge. I once read that clenching your buttocks tightly will prevent you from passing out from fear. LOL. Happy to report it works for me. Also, like you, I sing. “Rock and Roll All Night” by Kiss is my battle cry and distraction.
When we had dinner at Longhorn (the night you launched this Substack, if I recall correctly) I was actually working through one of mine. I told myself if it worked out naturally so that I was seated with a good view of the door, fine, but I wasn't going to ask for a special table or move seats or anything. (I have been known to wait significantly longer, to the point of managers being summoned to talk to me about WTF is wrong, to get a table where my back is not to the door, nobody will be walking behind me en route to the kitchen or bathroom, and I have a good view of all exits.) I have played the deaf card a few times to explain this, but the truth is that if I turn my hearing aids all the way up, nobody can sneak up on me in a restaurant. It's just anxiety. When I got there, you had the perfect table claimed (which helped!) but of course I was sitting across from you, back to the door. I reminded myself a couple of times that I could trust you, so if anything bad was approaching the table you would both react and warn me, and that it would be fine. Which it was. :-)
That's fun to know, finding out after the fact that you were doing that. I've done similar, of course not revealing that to whoever is keeping me company ('this muthafucka is CRAZY').
And yes, it was the night I started this Substack. Because you had the idea, and engineered it so that I was gently pushed to do it. It worked!
I also know where the perfect table is intuitively. You can trust me for all your table-claiming needs.
I have said, only half jokingly, that someone needs to start an app to send gay men out for various errands. You're too young for the one I always mention first for that idea (uncomplicated hugs on demand--dudes need to be grandparent age for that work, I think) but you've just given me an idea.
We need a catchy one word name for an app that sends a fucked-up friend to be with a fucked-up person to do stuff. Someone who can choose the right table in a restaurant, pick up on small tells of PTSD triggering in progress, knows when to make a dark-humor joke about past horror, and can step up and argue an incorrect charge or whatever when such mundane self-advocacy tasks are just Too Much Right Now. It would be a small, but very loyal and niche, customer base. LMAO.
You had me at "you're too young."
Yeah, like DoorDash for the Damaged. I could do that.
LMAO -- DoorDash for the Damaged. OMG, that's perfect. YFUF: DoorDash for the Damaged. (YFUF = Your Fucked-Up Friend). And yeah, you're too young for my Big $ Idea. I had it during the "pandemic." Most of the people I knew or talked to online who really suffered the loneliness actively (as opposed to just drinking more/taking more drugs) were single women who lived alone. But having male company was risky because if he was going to have to quarantine for two weeks he expected to get laid, at the very least. That was what gave me the idea for an app that would send a grandpa-looking gay dude over to have dinner and hang out. Three hug minimum, LOL.
"Preferred seating" was one of my disability accommodations in college -- one of the four I accepted (I think they offered me something like fifty, no joke). Never could push myself much in school, because I needed all my cognitive energy for calculus, number theory, etc., and had none left over for pushing myself.
And I am so glad you're doing this--your show demonstrates your gift for writing ably, but it's fun to get to read you sometimes, too.
My husband always wants to see the door, it’s a safety issue…he’s worked in law enforcement.
I relate, though it manifests differently for me. When I go out to eat I usually prefer to have my back to the other patrons, even if it means not being able to see the door. I don't like feeling visible during a meal. When my anxiety was at its worst, I also couldn't stand brightly lit restaurants -- again, too visible. So much of this has improved for me once I figured out Cluster B, but I suspect there will always be shades/remnants.
My mom has a phobic fear of the Tappan Zee. She even worries whenever anyone in our family drives over it. I'm okay with the TZ. I did have a panic attack on top of the pyramid at Chichen Itza -- climbed up, got to the top, looked down, freaked out. Fun!
The Tappan Zee, old or new, is the worst bridge of all. So many people fear it.
I can't imagine climbing a pyramid. DREAD AND DOOM
I'm not sure I'd do it now! I definitely wouldn't have done it a few years ago. I was 21 and less damaged when I did... I've made a *partial* recovery. It was utterly terrifying -- the steps are such that going up feels easy and not very steep, but looking down is petrifying. There were many wild American tourist children darting all around me, which made it worse. I read that they no longer allow people to climb it!
Also, airplanes. But we've been over that!
I have zero fear of heights as I’ve used ladders at work and skied and climbed mountains all of my life but I too climbed the pyramid at Chichen Itza and was also freaked out going down those steep steps with nothing but a thin worn rope to guide me. My legs ached for days and if I remember correctly there were only 91 steps.
I have a heights phobia, too, but mostly just pertaining to climbing ladders or stairways that are open on all sides. Pretty mild as far as phobias are concerned. I visited the The Willis Tower, a 108-story, 1,450-foot skyscraper in Chicago. The observation deck is glass on all sides including the floor. My friend cajoled me into it and I nearly feinted from terror. I hate rollercoasters and other amusement part rides that have height as a feature, and usually won't do them. Kudos to you for forcing yourself to find coping strategies to deal with your phobia.
Excellent story. Good for you. I stopped flying. My sisters, who put our mother in a small hospice room for a year (she wasn't that sick-illegal where I live in upstate NY--legal in Wisco) aren't worth it. My grandfather, ironically an immigrant from Norway, had such terrible fear of heights that my Uncle Lars had to take over driving (he was barely old enough) when they drove West over the Rockies to see (other Norwegian) relatives.
Since my then-husband betrayed me, lied, pretended, went awol (yup, super cluster B, like deserves a special label) and etc to "be a woman full-time" and got our kids to do erasure like calling him Mom and me by my first name, I got panic attacks. I actually thought I had heart disease. I try to memorize sections of Mozart and Beethoven to run in my mind when I feel the dreads coming on. I developed a set of floor movements to feel connected to muscles of abdominal wall, which is grounding, esp when breathing deeply to push away the dreads, close out the peripheral anxiety.
The world has gone nuts, I'm called a bigot (even been called a racist for no reason--my closest neighbors and friends are minorities who believe sex matters) I try to memorize little soundtracks of hearing their little kids in the next door yard and put it into my mind when I fear that my ex-husband's crew will come and burn down my house and rip up my garden, were I memorize moments of joy, like seeing two monarchs in mating dances. A book to help w the PTSD: Transforming Trauma by Dr. James Gordon. I don't do the whole plan, but adapt the concepts. Nature heals. She really does. I've been there. I've had to get myself off of the k. I thought it would get worse as I got older, but I'm better. Keep writing about it. Even the horrible childhood stuff. It makes you feel awful temporarily, but then is off of the back burner of your mind. Be proud of yourself for putting this out. You are on your way. Contact me through my blog if you are near Hudson Valley (bridges, yeah) and I'll give you a tour.
Ute Heggen, uteheggengrasswidow.wordpress.com
When I was 24 I climbed Table Mountain. There is a picture of me on a large platform where I am desperately holding onto the side of the mountain. I was so afraid of heights that I needed to hold onto something at any given point in time. My fear of heights has gotten worse.
There was a time where I went with exposure therapy; defined and instructed by myself. It was sometimes a disaster.
One a ski trip a few years ago my ski instructor abandoned me at the ski lift to support a different student who appeared to need more help. They jumped on the lift before me. And when it was my turn I panicked and ran away (as much as you can run with skis) and waited at the bottom of the mountain crying.
I have by now what used to be a cutesy fear of spiders an irrational fear of them.
When I was in the midst of a cluster B relationship to my narcissistic ex I was what is know to be hypervigilance. I was constantly on hyper alert. Could not tolerate loud noises, messes, or situations of uncertainty. I was not pleasant to be around. Everything around me needed to be perfect before I could relax. 4 years after kicking my narcissistic husband out of the house, I feel a lot less stress. The hypervigilance is gone for the most part. When it comes back during high stress times, I am in shock how I survived this form of being for so long and I am happy that I did not suffer greater health consequences. During the height of my hypervigilance I developed hives and one time had to be rushed to the hospital with face swelling that would not go down. The only two fears now are the fear of height and spiders that remained. I can live with these much better. I learned to tolerate messes. I learned to tolerate noise. I have not had hives since. Other health issues have been reduced, too.
The clarity you are showing in describing your situation is fantastic. I wish you good luck on your journey and also the courage to voice what you need, so you are not throwing a temper tantrum at the ski lift like I did; it is sometimes easier to show anger than fear.
I know all about the psychological and medical health effects of stewing in a Cluster B house. It's no surprise that you had so many somatic and nervous complaints. Very much like my experience.
And yes, these types of phobias tend to get worse as we age, frustratingly. I wish you luck in finding anything that helps, Ines.
Yesterday I had a moment where I was back at my old behavior. I received a call from a service I had just cancelled. They inquired why I wanted to cancel and if there was anything they can do better. I told them, I was not happy with the service for XYZ reason and that I already made up my mind and no longer wanted to talk about this. The person on the other line kept on the topic and asked why. I repeated, I no longer wanted to talk. And she kept asking if I wanted the service for free. And I said way more loudly than I needed to: “I do not want to talk about this anymore. Now you are making me angry.” I really lack the ability to set clean boundaries. This was one example where I should have just said goodbye and hung up instead of waiting for the other person to change her behavior and what she was clearly instructed to do. I hate myself when I “overreact” instead of just setting the boundaries needed. Sigh. Always fight or flight mode.
Twins.
Oh, I'm afraid of heights, too. Even climbing the ladder to the attic makes me feel woozy.
My bridge is The Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge (also known as The Cooper River Bridge, Ravenel, and The Coaster) which connects Mount Pleasant to downtown Charleston, SC.
The bridge has eight lanes and spans two and a half miles. One would find that terrifying enough, but wait! There's more!
It's nickname, "The Coaster", is the result of not one, but two large hills you must conquer to cross. The anxiety I feel atop the first hill is exacerbated by the knowledge another awaits. By the time I make the descent into Charleston, I'm exhausted. Relieved, but exhausted.
Fantastic writing, as always. I looked up the Tappan Zee Bridge. Holy smokes! Funny, most of my childhood nightmares involved bridges just like this. Shiver.
I can relate. I have battled a driving phobia for years. Bridges and even overpasses can be a challenge. I once read that clenching your buttocks tightly will prevent you from passing out from fear. LOL. Happy to report it works for me. Also, like you, I sing. “Rock and Roll All Night” by Kiss is my battle cry and distraction.