What Happens When You Have to Suck it Up?

I have this conditioned aversion to ever saying that "things are pretty good".  My life has consistently shown me that as soon as I say that, shit hits the fucking fan. I have tried over the past year or so to get more accustomed to calm. In my mind, calm equates to the lull between the storms. It is more riddled with anxiety for me than the storm itself.

At least once the storm is here, I know what it is. Waiting for it, wondering what it will be next; well, that is nearly unbearable for me.

I am learning. I'm just a really slow learner when it comes to anything that doesn't come straight out of a textbook.

Learning to accept the calm seems to involve tolerating the unknown. Tolerating the inevitable grey areas in life. Recognizing that, sometimes, you just can not know for certain.

Now, had you told me five years ago that I would eventually have to accept that I simply could not have known everything; well, I would probably have gone off the handle on you. I would have delved into the one thing that I had which was always certain (to my mind, anyway).

My disorder comforted me in times of uncertainty. I knew that if I didn't eat, then I would feel empty. I would be incapable of recognizing the feelings and grey area and the instincts that constantly demanded my attention. I would be empty. I would be able to glide through life. Feeling nothing. No pain; but, no happiness either. I also knew that if things were just getting to be too much for me to handle, then I could just binge and purge myself into oblivion. That I would be able to spend several hours completely disconnected from the world around me. Nothing would be able to hurt me; because I simply couldn't acknowledge the existence of anything.

Several years have passed since I spent my days comforting myself through electrolyte imbalances. Yet, I am still entirely uncomfortable with the unknown. It makes me act in ways that I normally attempt to avoid. I find myself thinking in ways that bring out extreme levels of anxiety. I switch into this bizarre survival mode that makes it impossible for me to ignore anything.

I grew up in a drug house. My mother was nowhere near a functioning addict. Yet, she tried very hard to convince us that everything was ok. I could never expect a straight answer from her. I had to gather the clues and piece the answer together for myself. Twenty plus years of dealing with addicts, alcoholics, chronic philanderers, and liars have honed my instincts into those of a lioness. Few things get past me, unless I want them to.

So, when I find myself in situations where I am not certain or uncomfortable, the instincts come out to play. I feel my ears prick up, my gut wrench, my mind begin to buzz at a million miles a minute, and I begin to scrutinize my surroundings. None of which feels very comfortable. However, it is how I get answers. I know that if I pay attention, then I will know everything that I need to know.

Let's just say that it makes me very awkward at parties.

When I was sick, I did not like that survival mode of mine very much. It made me feel completely insane. For the record, it still does. The key difference now is that I have gotten a bit better at processing the information that I gather than I was when I was a 19 year old bulimic.

It has been close to a year since I have gotten "the shakes". This started when I was around 12 or so. I had a few episodes of it; but that was all. "The shakes" became part of my daily reality when I was around 16. I could simply tell you what "the shakes" are, or I could give you an example of when I would experience them. As a student, I tend to think that applicable examples are key in the learning process.

I was probably 17, maybe 18. My boyfriend at the time had disappeared for a couple of days. This was a fairly regular occurrence. I knew that he would call me to pick him up, eventually. I usually spent the days in between the loss of contact and the rescue with my head in the toilet. Well, I had just had one of those episodes where you collapse and then wake up to find yourself covered in a variety of bodily secretions, when the rescue call came in. I cleaned myself up and drove thirty minutes to the sketch apartment complex where he was at. He hadn't showered in days, his skin was ashen, his breath reeked, he had stains on his shirt, and promptly consumed about a dozen tacos.

Like always, I tried to ask him what happened.....
He had misplaced his phone.
For five days?!
Why do you always have to grill me on this?
I was worried sick!
What are you, my mother??
No, but she has been calling me nonstop!
Either drop it or take me back.

I sure as hell wasn't about to take him back, so I dropped it.

Besides, I already knew what he had been doing. I took in everything about his appearance and the appearances of those he had been with. I had gathered enough information in the thirty seconds that he had me wait in the doorway to the apartment for me to know what he had been doing. Meth and girls.

I took him home to get clothes. I waited in his room while his parents had it out with him. Then he stormed in and told me we were leaving. I gave an apologetic look to his mother and followed like an obedient pup. He had me drive him to a party.

We started drinking and smoking and having a great time. I just kept my mouth shut and everything was fine. He wasn't going to get into serious trouble with me there. Then I realized that I had lost track of him. He had vanished. I looked around the house for close to an hour; but he was gone. I went home. Fretting and worrying the whole way.

What if we had just missed each other walking through the house? He would be furious with me. Why wasn't he answering his phone? What if he went back? How could I let this happen? His mother counted on me to make sure he stayed safe!

The thoughts went on and on until I finally fell asleep.

I woke up a few hours later to my boyfriend climbing my balcony and coming into my bed. He had expectations. When I tried to resist, he questioned me. He was out of his mind on lord only knew what combination of drugs. I did as expected.

Then I started to shake. It was as though I was having a seizure. I just shook and shook and shook. I was trembling all over. I couldn't cry. I couldn't speak. I tried to move around to get myself to stop shaking. My boyfriend told me to chill out and stop trying to get his attention. I got up and went into the bathroom. The noise of my knee shaking against the cabinet woke my sister and my father. They were worried.

The more that I told them that I was fine, the more that I shook. It went on for hours. I spent the whole night trying to calm myself. Trying to soothe the anxiety out of me. Trying to stop the logical thoughts from swirling through my head. I didn't like what I was piecing together. I knew what was right and what was wrong. That week had been very wrong. Worse, I hadn't done a damned thing about it.

I don't remember how the shaking stopped. I think that I eventually just fell asleep.

How many of you can figure out what "the shakes" are for me?






The Shakes: what happens to me when I attempt to repress my emotions, rationalize away my observations; put simply, when I suck it up...



I haven't had the shakes since I broke up with my father's daughter. I think it was a bit before. I'm not sure. It was the typical cause: magnum wrapper and "I don't know how it got there".

I swore to myself that I would never get the shakes again. I promised myself that I would never hold my tongue again. I would not downplay my instincts or  my observations. I would own who I was and why I was that way. I have earned the way that I tolerate uncertainty. I have earned it through many years of pain and anxiety. Through many attempts to deny who I am and what I am capable of. Through feeling worse for the person who was hurting me than I ever did for myself. I can't change who I am. I can only change the way that I handle it.

I don't push the thoughts out of my head anymore. I don't allow the emotion to overcome my ability to think. I recognize my needs and I vocalize them. I still feel bad when they hurt people that I care about, but I refuse to hurt myself instead. I try to honor myself.

I am nowhere near perfect. My learning history has made me someone who is emotional, suspicious, and somewhat irrational in challenging moments. I have a hard time keeping myself from shutting down. It is one of the hardest things for me to do. Yet, I know that I can't keep taking things onto my own shoulders. Eventually, I will break my own back.

I allow my instincts to run their course. I do my best to not sweep their observations under the rug. It is very tempting to do in certain situations. I reach out to those who I can trust to understand where I have come from and what I am trying to do. I count on them to help me understand things the way that someone who hasn't seen the things that I have. Then I decide, logically, if I need to speak up or not. Sometimes, I don't. There are times when my instincts kick in for no reason. The important thing is that I do speak up when I feel like I have to.

I would rather force myself through an uncomfortable situation than spend hours trembling uncontrollably because I knew that I should have.

I remember the first time that I forced myself to avert the shakes. It was when my research partner blew me off for the "last time". I opened up. I told her how much it hurt me that my time wasn't being respected. That I would rather be with my daughter than sitting at Starbucks waiting for her to show up. I don't think she liked it much. The remainder of the project was difficult to get through. Yet, I felt a sudden surge of self confidence.

I want to make it clear that denying your own needs doesn't always have to be in situations of serious marginalization. On the contrary, it can be when you offer to buy lunch for someone when you really need to save your money. It can be forcing yourself to go to class when you really just need to relax for that extra hour. It can be answering a phone call from a friend that you know will spend the whole time complaining about the same shit. It is far better to speak up than it is to suck it up.

That is how I tolerate uncertainty in the present day. I do it every single day. If I am unsure of myself or a situation, then I speak up. I ask. I only turn to my instincts when I feel like there is no other choice. Instead, I try to get whatever answers I can. I try to do so in ways that enhance my communication with others and lessen my internal dialogue.

I don't need to turn to maladaptive forms of coping to feel alright with my emotions anymore. I know that I am a good person. I know that I just have to give myself, and the people around me, a chance to teach me that the fear isn't necessary. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn't.

The important thing is that every time I keep my head out of the toilet.

I am still uncomfortable in times of seeming tranquility. I still wonder what is around the corner. Yet, I do not become consumed by it. I remind myself that I can make it through most anything. I know that there are plenty more challenges ahead for me. I'm not going to ruin the here and now by fretting about the could be. I will take it as it comes. Since I know how to do that, there really shouldn't be that much to worry about.

After all, the context is the difference between fear and anxiety.
Fear is what you experience when you are in the immediate path of danger.
Anxiety is what you experience when you are wondering if you will be able to handle danger when it comes.

Depression is what you experience when you aren't able to handle danger when it comes.


So, I am ok with knowing that I will experience plenty of fear before my life is over. I do my best when it comes to anxiety. For the most part, I am pretty sure that I can handle what life has in store for me. I seriously doubt that I will every be depressed again. I speak up, now.



Life is what we make of it. You have to know yourself and know your needs if you want to make the best of it. It is a process which requires an incredible amount of introspection, practice, and more introspection.

Totally worth it, though =)