The MRI 🧘🏼♀️ .
My heart raced rapidly. Heat zinged through my whole body. Gut clenched for dear life. Biting of tongue was in full effect. I fought for air..
“How ya feeling?” Asked the doc as I stared into the abyss of that white lil tube I had to spend the next .. century .. in.
Don’t admit it, don’t say it out loud... AH “I’m.. claustrophobic.” I blurted out.
Ok. I’ve been working on this. I started naming the things I saw, heard, felt, etc. grey stripe, blue apron thing, white tube.. WAIT WAIT PANIC, YOU’RE STUCK IN A WHITE TUBE FOREVER THE HOT FLASHES ARE BACK, BREATHE BREATHE BREATHE. I was at war with myself, but trusted the science of the body. This is just a trick of your nervous system, I reminded myself. Keep breathing, listening, relaxing, monitor your thoughts... After the longest 5 mins of my life, my system calmed. I suddenly had the clarity to wonder about those words, “I. AM. claustrophobic.” .
I thought back to the moment I spoke that to the doctor, realizing It was only when I named it that I became it - the symptoms showed up. The next 20 mins, I pondered the relationship between the power of naming and the state of the body. Sometimes naming ourselves brings relief, gives us a framework to understand, solve, grow. But SOME.TIMES. naming ourselves keeps us stuck inside of the symptoms. Even. If. Those. Things. Are. “True”. I do actually have physical symptoms of claustrophobia & other forms of anxiety. At a certain point, naming what went on in my body in those moments was helpful to learn tools to fight it. .
But now that I have the tools... am I helping my body combat symptoms or imposing symptoms on it? 🤔 thoughts? .
️I know this can be sensitive for people who have felt misunderstood in their disorders. I love you & cant imagine what it’s like to suffer invisibly. Your voice is welcome. - 1 hour ago