Just some things I saw on the internet this month and/or wanted to promote.
Zentangle Project Pack 24. I didn’t draw along this time, but I did enjoy watching the series from HQ.
My new adjustable bed platform makes it easier for me to get out of bed when I am feeling weak but I need to hurry to the bathroom because of an IBS flare. (Ollie is still driving me nuts scratching it though.)
My last GoFundMe donation was 20 days ago. If you’ve got the energy to share, I could use a visibility boost.
I appreciated this meditation video for acknowledging that we can’t all sit up like good little meditators.
My website stats are up this month, which means the guest post spam is also up. I made this page to streamline my email reply. I’m not opposed to guest posts in theory, but I get emails blowing smoke up my ass about what a great fit my site is from SEOs who don’t say what they want to write about. Then they send a follow up when I don’t reply.
My Substack is doing pretty well, and a new post goes live again on the September 1. You know, if you’re interested.
In case you missed it, there’s a free wallpaper you can download here if you’re like me and want to stare at your phone less.
Maybe I’m projecting, but the mood at the Cancer Center Friday was different, and after watching all four days of the DNC’s primetime convention lineup, I’m convinced it’s because we all can exhale about November. None of us need extra stuff to worry about.
I’ve been convinced Trump will lose for several months, but I’m also convinced he will lose violently. Now I’m less nervous because I have greater confidence that people are paying attention. (I am still certain he’ll be a violently sore loser until his dying day.) It’s reassuring, though, that it’s not just the vulnerable and a handful of voters saying “WTF!?” anymore.
It’s taken years to get here, but sun, sun, sun, here it comes.
Being diagnosed with brain cancer right after Trump’s 2017 inauguration was a disturbingly anxiety-inducing experience. I know I’ve said that before, but damn.
Maybe the felon’s running again coinciding with my newest, latest cancer scares has played an outsized role in my recent headlong plummet into Worry®. It sure wouldn’t be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever considered…
So. There was a patient at the clinic wearing a red, white, and blue shirt with a U.S. Marines hat when I went to see Dr. Oncologist Friday, and I didn’t reflexively assume the worst of a Boomer white guy from “downstate” Illinois telling his phlebotomist to tell her husband he said Semper Fi.
Nature is healing, thanks to Dems reminding the world flags and patriotism don’t have to be triggering symbols of White Nationalism.
I’ve also lost 12 pounds since my last oncology visit. All this past week I’ve been wondering why the elastic waistbands blew out in all my jammies and then I was like, ohhhhhh.
Lolz.
No worries though, I was plenty overweight and still am. I’m not losing too quickly or in danger of becoming underweight. Weight loss is a real problem for some cancer patients, but not for me. Treatments and bodies vary.
In addition to less binge-y eating habits, I think worry might have physical mass, and that shedding some worry has resulted in my losing a few pounds? Maybe?
I don’t know if any of these improvements will affect my physical disabilities. I do sometimes wonder, but then I remember to be in the present.
I’ve listened to Unwinding Anxiety a few times through now. I’m reluctant to praise anything too much, because I know how isolating and depressing it can be to want relief and not find it in places where others have. This Review of Unwinding Anxiety comes with a disclaimer.
Applying Brewer’s approach to my own anxiety and IBS seems to be working for me, but it might not be as healing for you. I want you to know that I see and fully acknowledge your struggle.
I’ve been stymied by that battle for what feels like an eternity, and I only drop affiliate links to make this book easier to access if you’re curious. Not because I think there’s a miracle, one-size-fits-all cure for this shit. If nothing else, reading could lead you to discover something that helps you more. That’s all I expect anyone to get from my review today.
But listen to me: if it doesn’t help like you want, it’s not your fault. It’s so important to me that you know that.
I still have anxiety, and I will always be prone to my anxious tendencies. The difference is that now I recognize it, have tools that can help me process it, and can clearly see the benefit of applying those tools.
Like I said a few days ago, I’m not moved much by woo. I prefer hard science, and Judson Brewer broke it down for me in this book. He explained his research plainly, and I found his writing clear but thorough.
Still, I’m the type who picks up on new things every time I read—it’s like when I’m rewatching a favorite movie and I notice something for the first time. I intend to give the audiobook a third listen after the initial ideas in Unwinding Anxiety have had a little more time to simmer.
Unwinding My Own Anxiety
My earliest memorable dealings with anxiety harken back to when I was about 8. I was in bed one night trying to sleep when I thought about the story of John Henry. We’d sung a song about him in music class earlier that week.
When I thought about Henry’s death and then realized my own was inevitable, I struggled to breathe. I felt sick to my stomach and hung out by the toilet for the night. It was my first panic attack, and I have only this week come to understand that’s what was happening.
Unfortunately, my best friend was sleeping over that night, and she wanted to go home. Adult me totally gets it, but little me was kind of heartbroken that my best friend didn’t want to hang out. Her mom or her grandma or someone came to pick her up. I was not just feeling anxious, I was feeling rejected.
My parents tried to console me that night, but I don’t think they understood my experience because I didn’t have words to articulate my fear. Besides, even at 8 years old, I already understood that I should probably just get a grip.
I got that same anxious feeling in my gut about Gifted & Talented class and tried to quit. But the G&T teacher was a hardass. She told me I couldn’t quit unless my parents wrote a note. I thought I’d be a disappointment to them—and I didn’t want to break their hearts—so I stayed in the program and never again brought it up.
And so it went for another 36 years.
I knew when I got stressed and anxious, my IBS would show up, but I had no clue I had developed full-blown generalized anxiety disorder until I heard Brewer define it. Then I remembered the joke I saw on Twitter about all the G&T kids being perfectionists with anxiety.
Hahahaha. Heh.
*nervously glances around room*
That plus recalling Dr. Pulmonologist recently noting the connection between IBS and anxiety caused me to have a lightbulb moment while listening to Unwinding Anxiety.
If I didn’t have a brain tumor to worry about, I might have put the pieces together sooner. After all, I have been diagnosed with anxiety because of my health.
Detailing My Anxiety Loops
Trying to get the anxiety and IBS to stop without understanding the connection was futile. My chronic illness and the physical manifestations of my GAD, were woven too tightly together.
With each new physical symptom, I’d spiral and feed the anxious habits I’d been actively suppressing for a lifetime. Every new doctor’s appointment made it all worse.
The constant internal battle over needing to know what was wrong with me but also needing to not have another expensive doctor’s appointment drain my bank account magnified my anxiety and made my IBS an even bigger problem. To the point I was noticing disordered eating in an attempt not to shit my pants. Sometimes not wanting to eat at all. When I would finally give in and eat because I knew I needed calories to stay alive, there would be even more severe consequences.
When Mom would join us for a meal, I’d stress about getting to the bathroom in time after eating. Or I’d fret about choosing the “wrong” food when ordering takeout, et voilá. I’d give the IBS something to IBS about. I’d try to identify trigger foods only to realize everything caused GI distress and be certain I was hopelessly broken. The suffering was endless.
Also? “You have cancer, we should see if this is cancer too” every few weeks might have been medically sound advice, but it was disastrous for my mental health. My doctors and I didn’t know what we didn’t know.
Pausing My Catastrophic Spirals
Garden variety anxiety had been on my radar for a while. So I tried earnestly to meditate myself to calm. The problem was that my anxiety had anxiety, as they say. Or, put another way, I was anxious I’d be anxious again. I was a hot mess.
I’m still a hot mess, if I’m honest. But Unwinding Anxiety has helped me understand what triggers my anxiety loops, why just mapping the loops helps, and how a subtle shift in how I meditate gets me to recognize what’s happening and press pause on the unraveling.
My brain has always been trying to help, since I was a kid, but I ended up very literally addicted to worry.
Evidence My Anxiety Was Exacerbating My IBS
Grasping for answers made me feel worse. Nothing is clearer to me now. Brewer encourages the anxious who try his approach to not just scrutinize his evidence, but look for their own.
I’m wary of things helping for a short time and ceasing to be therapeutic, BUT
My guts aren’t as inflamed. Which means my lungs have more room to expand and my breathing isn’t as shallow as it was just last week.
I can also hug both of my knees to my chest without any pain in my abdomen—something that inflammation and excruciating pain had made impossible for the last couple of years.
I am still eating “bad” foods, but my IBS-D episodes are farther between and less severe. I haven’t had an IBS-C bout since my first listen. Though it’s too early to say anything about IBS-C with certainty as that has always been an intermittent issue.
That level of improvement with my IBS coupled with my vastly improved mental well-being—in such a short time—is enough for me to keep on keeping on and write this long-ass post.
OMFG. Here’s how the epic nightmare took hold. I was very rudely awakened by a cat under my bed this morning. He was on his back, scooting around under the mattress while sinking his claws into the new adjustable, cloth-covered bed platform.
It might be funny behavior worthy of a giggle at 3 pm, but at 3 am it’s obnoxious and liable to wake up a woman already exhausted by the physical manifestations of her anxiety, leaving her agitated.
Ask me how I know.
When I don’t sleep, my inner grump thinks she’s at a rave, and someone has swiped her glow stick and called her the thief.
So I turned on my sleep podcast, shoved a pillow between my knees to prevent back spasms, and rolled onto my right side to try and play a game of pick up slumber. I did fall back to sleep, but it was lousy, unrestful, and entirely Oliver’s fault.
He’s adorable, but not before dawn.
I was curled into a fetal position. Something that’s sure to start any day off with aches. I had the added fortune of bad-dreaming my way through that sleep too. It wasn’t a nightmare in the colloquial sense, but it was most definitely an epic nightmare.
I won’t bore you with every detail, promise. Just the relevant parts so you understand my mental state this morning.
When I went back to sleep, my legs curled with my muscles firing like I was riding a bicycle—apparently causing my subconscious brain to dream I was riding a bike through an inaccessible sorority house that I couldn’t escape. With every ridiculous lap I was forced to make while trying desperately to leave, I got grumpier.
When someone’s frat boyfriend called me a little girl, I snapped. “I’m forty-fucking-four you fucking asshat.”
I woke up in a baaaaad mood. It was 7:13 am, and my legs were still curled up. I was still lying on my side, clutching the pillow with my knees. I hadn’t moved for four hours. I was tired and extremely sore.
When I told Dan why my legs were broke and I needed help putting my pants on he said, “Jesus, Swiss. Pretty sure that dream’s a retelling of Homer’s Odyssey.”
I started assessing the characters and the absurdity of obstacles on my allegorical path. “Holy shit.” I could feel my eyes widen some.
My brain had spent the last four hours dreaming up an allegory for my disability that included my trying to escape a cluttered old house with stairs AND A BIKE while my dog was trapped in a pickup truck.
There were subplots and side quests galore. So many I couldn’t write them all here if I wanted to. If I wasn’t in REM sleep the whole 4 hours, it sure felt like I was in REM sleep the whole time.
For perspective: I don’t even watch new 90-minute movies these days because they require an outsized amount of concentration relative to the endurance required to focus on anything during a bout of anxious brain fog.
There’s no rest for the disabled. Here I am trying to extend my legs and opposing muscle groups are stuck in a jerky opposition loop that makes me so wobbly I can’t stand up straight.
I spent all day yesterday listening to the UnwindingAnxiety audiobook by Judson Brewer. It had been on my radar for a while after he was a guest on Tara Brach’s podcast, but, you know, money. I was getting desperate about my mental health though.
Anyway, Unwinding Anxiety was very helpful for me, because there’s so much woo out there when it comes to learning about mindfulness and meditation. Brewer is an MD and PhD (like the neurosurgeon who cut my head open in 2017) and there was so much science in his approach, I was darn near giddy.
I know some people prefer a more spiritual approach to these things, but that is not me. I sometimes filter through the spiritual silt for the nuggets, but when I don’t have to spend energy on that? Praise cheezus.
Let’s just say it was worth every penny of the $13 it cost me to get that book. Bonus points that I can listen from bed.
By the way, I made this wallpaper for my phone’s lock screen after listening. Feel free to save it to your phone if you think it could help. I’m much less inclined to be on social media these days, but I do still look at my screen more frequently than I’d like. Maybe this will help me create space, as they say.
Brewer is from Indianapolis, experienced IBS, and mentioned how well Western medicine handled brain tumors in chapter 20. Those random connections in some way comforted my anxious mind.
Speaking of anxiety (Because I never do that. Ha!) I am now pretty sure—after reading Brewer’s book—that what I have is generalized anxiety disorder. However, seeking an official diagnosis in a clinical setting is the last thing I need at the moment.
Just learning how my anxious brain works is progress. I think working at identifying my anxiety loops and recognizing when it’s time to place the proverbial sticks in their spokes will get me to a place where I can make a better decision about whether seeing a psychiatrist is warranted.
I’m not opposed to the idea. But money and other triggers are always a concern.
I’ve been trying really hard to stay positive, but today I am dealing with an IBS-D flare and back spasms. It’s taking all I’ve got to stay in the low-anxiety zone. And I’ll be frank, I am not good at it.
There are new lounging pants in my wishlist, and I will leave the rest to your imagination. Just know that it’s difficult to not be very angry at my body when it feels like it’s out to get me.
This back issue happened to me once at the hospital after a particularly long MRI. If I had to guess, I’d say I’m adjusting poorly to the new bed in addition to the usual irritable bowel shenanigans. It’s better for me, the adjustable bed, but I was used to the struggles of the old one. Now my back is being precious about it.
If the past is any indicator, the tension and immobility in my lower back will wane eventually, but until that time I’ve got my middle fingers out again. I’m exhausted by the setbacks and rotating ailments. I’m ready for some stability.
Less sucky stability though. I feel like if I don’t make that clear, I’ll end up with crap experiences on a technicality. Like when the genie takes away one of your wishes because you wish you knew what to wish for.
I know that I have a better sense of well-being when I can make room for the inconveniences of being chronically ill, but this level of meditation is new and hard. It takes time to make new habits. It’s not like I came with all this angst on day one.
Anyway, today I’m overwhelmed and need a hug, a penguin stuffie, and some peppermint tea. A little sunshine wouldn’t hurt either.
Everyone brings something enjoyable to Zentangle. Sometimes it’s a style accessible to me where I am right now. Or maybe it’s a collaboration that connects me to Zentangle community. Other times it’s art so captivating I just have to pause to admire it. My favorite CZTs all appeal to me for different reasons.
Maybe you’re already familiar with these talented people. But just in case you aren’t, I thought I’d drop some links. They are worth checking out.
Romi Marks, CZT
I’ve talked about the Tangledyogi 333 YouTube channel before, and posted this picture of her Divine Dove design I finished a couple of years ago. The colors and designs Romi Marks comes up with are so fun and relaxing to draw, and the colors are always so vibrant and uplifting. If you haven’t tried one of her free video classes yet, you are missing out!
Shie Naritomi, CZT
Shie Naritomi follows offiicial Project Pack videos (Project Pack 24 is currently underway, in case that’s news to anyone) on YouTube from Zentangle HQ, with tutorials for Japanese speakers. I don’t speak Japanese, but love watching her videos. Turns out it’s quite soothing to hear the rhythm of her instructions in a language that’s unknown to me, but I also admire watching her instructions. Each day I’m reminded that Zentangle art is like handwriting—different enough to appreciate our uniqueness, but similar enough to share a common understanding. Her style is beautiful.
Tracy Anne Wilkinson, CZT
When I first started Zentangling, Tracey Ann Wilkinson’s tutorials and style really appealed to me too. Early on, I completed this Zendala design featuring a motif of swirl patterns, and it remains a favorite to this day. I am also a fan of the Art Deco pieces she has created on her YouTube channel. Easy to draw and beautiful to look at. To me, that’s the appeal of Zentangle.
Who are some of your favorite CZTs? Bonus points if you share a link to one of their videos or images so we can all explore the Zentangle community!
Readers, I wasn’t. This time. I just couldn’t remember the lyrics, and it bugged me.
I also caught hella side-eye from Dan for absentmindedly singing the J. G. Wentworth jingle yesterday, but clapped back immediately, “I’m not the one who watches TV all day. Why do I have to pay the price?”
Dan kept on walking. His silence a clear indicator that I had won a round.
I’m back, bitches!
I don’t know how long less-anxious me is going to stick around between episodes, but it feels good to have my mind free from anxiety’s death grip right now. It’s been a minute.
Speaking of death grips. I’ve been trying very intentionally to grip my Rollator less tightly. Now that I’m aware—thanks to my lung function testing—I’m noticing when I white knuckle the handles so hard my hands don’t register a pulse. It’s pretty much every time I stand up.
No wonder walking makes me see stars! I’ve been anxious about falling for too long.
It’s easiest for me to relax my hands, arms, and shoulders first thing in the morning, and it gets worse as my body comes online and remembers to be freaked out. It seems to be a combo of cortisol and muscle memory that trigger fight or flight once I’m coherent.
I imagine it’ll take some time to relax and exercise my way out of this paper bag. That’s okay. I can deal with hard shit when I understand it, and I am starting to understand how my anxiety works.
I had a small breakthrough while listening to a talk on addiction by Tara Brach. At first I wasn’t going to even listen to this week’s podcast because I was thinking alcohol, sex, shopping, and drugs weren’t really my problem.
But I am addicted to answers, and when I started thinking of my diagnostic side quests here lately, well, I wasn’t exactly making space for my anxiety. The first part of the talk is broad anyway. I found it very helpful.
We’ve had a couple of pleasant days here, but they were deceptively pleasant. I’m paying for having the windows open with non-stop sneezing and a raging sinus headache so intense my teeth hurt. It’s hard to be positive when the things you want to celebrate hurt you.
Nevertheless.
Hold up. Dan just brought me an ice pack to put on my face.
Ahhh.
Oliver has a new nickname in addition to Oliver Wendell Homeslice. It’s Coach. Because he busts through the bathroom door when I’m on the toilet and screams at me. I appreciate the pep talk, but so far it hasn’t helped my IBS-C flares.
Gratuitous photos of the cute, but ineffective, little jerk.
I’m currently struggling with not worrying about Dan and had to have the “I need to know you’ll be okay,” talk. Not because I feel the end is near, but because my superpower is obsessing over what ifs. I have been feeling like a ginormous burden lately, no doubt fueled by the US system of “heath care” in all its overpriced glory.
Something in me thinks things would feel manageable again if I could keep the anxiety down to a dull roar, but every time I think I have something sorted, a new thing surfaces. Today it’s a cyst on the skin near my sternum. This has appeared before, but the difference is I could deal with the weird post-chemo skin stuff back then. Now I can’t tuck my chin far enough to see it.
Skin lesions are Dan’s specialty though, so at least I don’t feel like I have to worry about another trip to the doctor.
Oh, also I bought some stuff for swimmer’s ear, and I just want to say there’s a special place in hell for manufacturers who don’t put tabs on foil seals and then have the nerve to put a paper layer on top that tears away leaving absolutely nothing to grip.
While I’m complaining: I got this remote holder from Amazon. The picture shows it holding three remotes but it only holds two of mine. Naturally I need it to hold a TV remote, a Roku remote, and my adjustable bed remote.
“But Emily,” I hear you saying, “didn’t you test how many remotes it would hold before you stuck it to the nightstand?”
Before I do anything else, I’d like to take a moment to appreciate that I’m not recovering from a bronchoscopy today because I didn’t need one yesterday because my body handled that lung nodule like a boss.
I moved my appointment with Dr. Oncology a couple of weeks out, and I will use this time to be kind to my guts.
I dealt with another 5-day round of IBS-C this week, which was awful. But! I had a few days before that where I felt slightly better than what has become my usual. So I will see about extending my not-too-awful streak.
Dr. Pulmonologist said that my lung function test results point to anatomical breathing restrictions caused by deconditioning. I don’t have asthma or COPD or anything, so losing weight and exercise would probably help me. I will try.
Diet and exercise can be an excuse for some doctors not to listen, but I’m confident that’s not the case here. I continue to believe my most unwieldy medical issue is anxiety, and it’s physical manifestations are out of whack. I’m working on that, but it’s not like there’s an overnight cure.
There are a couple of specific things that plague me. I obsessively plan now. I’ve always been the kind of person that checks out the menu at a new restaurant a day ahead, but now I plan what I will wear to the doctor’s office, who will drive me there, what I will say, how much water I can drink beforehand to have decent veins but not have an overactive bladder scare.
You get the idea. It’s too much. And the kicker is that I’m too physically disabled to write it all down and I don’t trust myself to remember. That means I obsess AND then I rehearse it all. It’s bad news, but it’s unnecessary. I don’t have to do it. I need to remember that. Be like, yo, self! You’re doing the anxious shit again.
I’ve been addressing some of this with Tara Brach’s podcast, because—at least for now—appointments and schedules trigger a physical anxiety response. So I’m trying to self-soothe for now. Without the Oreos.
