We All Freak Out
Caring for ourselves and metabolizing the world
Today’s newsletter discusses eating disorders and other things that could be upsetting.
On Relapses and True Self-Care
It’s the end of the semester. On Friday night, I stayed up until 2am in order to finish and turn in a research paper and finish grading the two writing composition classes I’ve been teaching. I figured it was better to stay up after I’d turned in the (16 page) paper and finish grading than to have my grading bleed into the following day. Was that the correct decision? I don’t know. I don’t know if there’s a “right” decision when someone is in a PhD program and also working on a book.
It’s common knowledge, at least in my program, that the first year of the program is the most challenging, and that’s certainly been my experience. I moved across the country in July, had a marathon book revision, and then dove into the first semester, already burned out. To say that I’m burned out right now feels like an extreme understatement.
Truthfully, doing all these things while also managing a toxic roommate situation has broken me. I have relapsed with my eating disorder more than once and more severely that I’ve experienced in several years. My average night of sleep over the past four months is six hours and three minutes.
I don’t know how many actual days off I’ve taken in the past four months, but I think I’ll say none, because my days off aren’t really days off, but recovery. I lay in bed and watch TV all day because I have no capacity to do otherwise.
I’m in Atlanta dog-sitting, and yesterday, after sleeping in until 8am (which was all I could do because of the dog), I lay on the couch all day and half-watched TV. I relapsed again.
I’m not sure if anyone ever fully recovers from an eating disorder. It’s not an addiction where the addicted can cut the substance or activity out of their lives. I can’t stop eating. I’ve often said that if there were a pill I could take several times a day that could replace food I must eat to stay alive, I’d take it and abstain from eating completely.
But in reality, of course, there’s not, and also, my relationship with food over the past couple years had improved greatly. You’ll notice I’m using the past tense. This is because I know how much the past four or five months— the living situation, the demands of the program, the ways in which I’ve had to shelve so many of my self-care strategies in order to get through it.
It’s not that anyone has forced me to neglect myself, and it’s not necessarily that I haven’t had the time to take care of myself in the ways I’d like to. I mean, the latter is true. My workload is immense. Teaching two classes means grading forty papers four times over, plus their smaller projects. Taking classes means reading pages and pages of theory or, in workshop, closely reading the work of my peers and giving thoughtful feedback, plus participating in classes and writing papers.
And then there’s the book, which I’ve gotten back from my editor. And departmental activities, many of which are required, And reading for the literary magazine.
How can one find space inside of all of that? I keep thinking about my Fulbright in Czechia— back then, I’d decided to do the Fulbright ETA because it felt impossible to say no to such a prestigious opportunity. I also had the first draft of my book to write. Three months in, I made the heartbreaking decision to quit. I realize now that I was juggling many mental health issues. My PTSD had been triggered the prior fall, and again in winter. I had undiagnosed ADHD. I was in a foreign country which had rigid gender roles, and I’d come out as nonbinary less than a year later. It was a lot. But still., I wish I’d have stayed. Leaving didn’t solve anything. It made it all worse. But I think that whatever happened back then was inevitable. I needed medication. And sometimes that’s just how it is.
Maybe that’s why I’m not going to quit my program. Though, if I’m being honest, it’s money. I have none.
I do get a little bit of breathing room for the next three, almost four weeks. Just a bit. And in this space I am asking myself what I need to make this workable for me. What I need to adjust in order to prioritize my self-care now and next semester.
And I’m also asking myself: is this workable? And if it isn’t, what are the steps I need to take to leave the situation?
I want this program to work, but I am not wholly against leaving if it’s negatively affecting my mental and physical health. That said, I want to give myself every chance to do well while also caring for myself. I may be delusional in believing those two things aren’t mutually exclusive in an academic setting.
I’m also moving into my own place at the end of the month, which I know will shift things. The living situation I’ve been in has permeated everything, and once I leave I know I will have more space for me.
On How we Handle Our Emotions
On Saturday night I watched Thich Nhat Hanh videos, which is something I do when I’m feeling really overwhelmed. It’s definitely one of my more helpful coping strategies.
Hanh was sitting on a little podium, surrounded by people, and a little girl had come up to a microphone. She asked him about anger— what do we do when we’re overwhelmed with our anger?
Specifically, she asked, : ”how do we let anger out?”
In turn, Hanh responded with a question: “Do you think anger comes from outside of you?”
Often, when we feel anger, Hanh says, we think that something has made us angry. I think this is true across the board, with all emotions. We think hat the emotions are triggered by something, that someone or something makes me feel a certain way.
And yes, in a way, it is true. But it’s also not. People, events, places: they can all evoke specific feelings and emotions in us, in our bodies and minds. Yet Hanh argues that these feelings, sensations, emotions are already living within us, and those arising most often are arising because we’ve (consciously or unconsciously) chosen to cultivate them.
This doesn’t mean we’re to blame for how we feel, or that we blame ourselves for our feelings, or that specific people and things don’t affect us negatively.
Hanh writes in his book ANGER:
“When you get angry, go back to yourself, and take very good care of your anger. And when someone makes you suffer, go back and take care of your suffering, your anger. Do not say or do anything. Whatever you say or do in a state of anger may cause more damage in your relationship.
Most of us don’t do that. We don’t want to go back to ourselves. We want to follow the other person in order to punish them.” -Thich Nhat Hanh
Hanh reminds us, “with every step, you can arrive in the present moment.” He reminds us that we can always, always return to our breath, that our breath is our anchor.
That if we forget ourselves, and instead think that the solution is outside of ourselves, we break that sacred connection.
He also teaches us, specifically when it comes to anger, that following the other person is counterproductive. This is something I’ve been learning over the past few months, in terms of my living situation. I have tried many times to create peace with someone who, for whatever reasons, can’t see me for me. In doing that, I’ve been abandoning myself and looking for a solution outside of myself.
I set boundaries, but they were weak, because I was scared about how those boundaries were received. But I can’t change the actions or perceptions of others, ever.
The real question, when it comes to the behavior of others, is about whether it’s workable. As in, “Is this good for me” and “is this a healthy situation for me.”
If it’s not, then it’s not at all about what the other person is doing.
It’s about what I am doing, if I’m being authentic and truthful to myself and them, and if their reactions to me feel appropriate for the situation.
If I am feeling angry or violated in relationship with someone else, and they aren’t willing to see me at all, that isn’t a workable situation, and nothing I do will force them to see me for who I am.
This gets more complicated in terms of upbringing, because many of us were forced to be in relationship with people who hurt us.
A child raised by a violent caregiver (whether that violence is physical, emotional, or both) learns to be in relationship with people who don’t and cannot see them. They learn to shape themselves to the situation, to plead and beg for peace. They’re little chameleons who learn to survive anything. My upbringing has given me the gift of adaptability. I know that I can survive any situation. My default throughout my life has been making sure others are okay. It’s taken me a long time to turn my care inwards, and ask myself what I need to be okay.
For me, it feels unsafe to have boundaries, especially when I have to draw boundaries with people who may have reactions like the silent treatment, anger, resentment, rage.
But as adults, we have agency.
And it’s okay— no— it’s imperative that I prioritize my health and well being above everything else. Because if I’m not taking care of myself, I can’t be myself at all, and what good is that for anyone?
What Happens When we Blame Others for Our Problems?
Over the past couple weeks, a professor in my PhD program has been posting to the Listserv in an effort to get students to register for his class. First, these messages were cryptic, but they became bitter, and the person started laying his bitterness about perceived slights by the program out on the Listserv. This all unwound over the past few days, and ultimately he sent several widely-viewed emails that were completely inappropriate, blaming others for the low registration numbers, lamenting his position in the program (he’s tenured!), and calling another professor mentally ill.
This was triggering and totally fucked-up to watch unfold. There is currently disciplinary action being taken towards this person. It was such a fast escalation, and for me the inner workings of such an escalation feel transparent: the professor in question sent out an email with relatively good intentions but arguably problematic rhetoric, and while he got some responses that may have met his expectations, he also got some responses that challenged his assumptions. Then, he got angry, because he felt misunderstood.
This person also happens to be an older, straight, white man who has won literary awards and identifies with those awards and the status they imply.
So, in other words, his ego was bruised. He lashed out and tried to tear down the people who questioned him, in turn making one of them (and possibly others) feel very unsafe.
I’m using this person as an example, perhaps unfairly, but it’s “up” for me because it just happened, and it was so surprising. I mention his whiteness, his straightness, and his age because those all have something to do with how often this person has likely been “understood” in his lifetime, and how often people likely excused his behavior. Which may be why the reaction of others were essentially intolerable to him. Behavior like this shouldn’t be excused. People harmed by this behavior need validation and understanding. The people exhibiting this behavior also need understanding, along with accountability.
What I’m saying is: when we go after others, whether that’s in trying to tear them down or accusing them (inwardly or outwardly) of making our lives hell or overreacting etc…, we harm ourselves. Assuming that our point of view is the correct point of view is a way of going after someone, a way of trying to force them to see us and where we’re coming from.
Hanh says: listen instead.
Curiosity Has Changed my Life
I first encountered curiosity as a spiritual and relational tool many, many years ago, when I began to read Buddhist Sutras but also when I started reading Pema Chodron.
Since then, my curiosity has helped me immensely. Being curious is such an open space: there is no judgement, no conclusion. No good and no bad.
I think that, had I allowed myself more curiosity in the past four months, I would have had a better experience— I’d have come to conclusions earlier about what is workable and what’s not. And still: I did have a lot of curiosity. I was interested in understanding.
Having curiosity and understanding where someone is coming from through a line of open inquiry doesn’t mean you’ll solve any problems. Rather, it almost guarantees that you’ll perceive things with more clarity, and with that clarity you can decide what actions you’d like to take. It doesn’t mean accepting the abusive or problematic actions of others, but it can give you the chance to step outside of whatever is being triggered inside you, so you can see things as they are.
Curiosity, coupled with inaction, have been the two most helpful tools in my emotional toolbox, and I am reminding myself to approach my ED and my relapses with curiosity, non-judgement, and, if and when I can, inaction.
Inaction doesn’t mean doing nothing. It means waiting.
You know that feeling you get when you just have to react?
Like you have to say or do something right now?
For me, those moments have become bright red flags for me. STOP, they scream. And sometimes, if I am in tune with myself, I can stop for a while and wait. When I’m able to do this, I always avoid reacting in a way that will escalate the situation.
When I do this, I often lose. And I am glad to lose. Because, in stopping and being with that feeling, I am not going after someone and trying to be right about something.
Or, I’m not immediately seeking an escape to my present moment. I’m asking myself: what feels right in this moment? What part of me is wanting to run towards or away?
Anyways, this is what I am with right now.
Things aren’t easy, but in the midst of it I’m trying to take care of myself. I’m trying to be flexible. I’m trying to be gentle with myself. I’m trying to stay true to what feels right. I’m trying to be accepting of others. I’m doing my best.
I know you are, too.
This is so beautiful. I need to learn this too, I have tried but this year has been hard and I’ve found myself failing and being angry. Thank you for sharing your wisdom with us ❤️
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