[In an effort to use FB more for socializing and my blog more for my writings on my life, I am copying old content from there to here with the title prefix "Archive:". This was originally posted to FB on 14 May 2018.]
Some advice to a friend
A couple days ago, a friend contacted me for support. They were in a very disoriented state. They were not happy and having thoughts about ending it. The brick walls in their room were distorted, or underwater. Their chest was heavy. I reached into my memories of being overwhelmed, and gave some advice that had been relevant to my experience. Yesterday, another friend contacted me for support with their situation, similar enough to the first, and I found myself giving the same advice. Something is telling me to just go ahead and share it. Pasted below (with permission) is only my half of the conversation (so there's a little discontinuity and some background will will have to be inferred).
First, this experience you are having.
I imagine it's scary.
This strange feeling in your body, like a panic attack, and your view of the walls all fritzing.
So here's a strange point of view that I adopted last summer. I used it like a mantra. I still do sometimes.
It was in the context of some crushing existential angst. Hopelessness, and my having no way to fit in.
I told myself,
Existential angst is just a bodily sensation. You may think it's an idea or even an emotion. But it's more like a type of pain.
It's a very strange one in that it seems to affect your idea of reality and how you fit into the universe.
But if you sit with it and watch it closely, it behaves much more similarly to a pain. It rolls over you like a wave and then tapers off.
If you learn to watch the waves from the side, rather than splashing to fight in them, you can simply wait as they pass.
There is a Buddhist expression, suffering is pain plus rejection.
Pain is a sensation, but suffering is like a state of existence. What elevates pain to become suffering? The fact that we reject it, that we fight it.
Having something like a panic attack or a traumatic flashback reminds us that the "we" that we think of as ourselves, is only a participant in our experience.
And all these other parts of us that we clearly in this moment don't control, they can make us feel unwelcome or even unsafe to be in our own bodes.
Sounds like something in your brain is, and I say this without judgment, really dysregulated right now.
Your brain knows how to re-tune itself. I imagine sleeping will help a lot.
In the meantime, there are two sort-of concrete things I can suggest.
First, try to turn the rejection or fear into curiosity.
Slow down, tune into this extremely weird situation.
Try to learn as much about what it's like to be you right now as you can.
Do so gently, patiently.
I'm not saying don't Xanax at all, but spend some time definitely not avoiding this first.
Even if it amounts to you lying in bed, eyes shut, unable to sleep. Spend that time, quiet, listening, feeling, and acknowledging.
If you ever find yourself in this state again, you'll know your way around, and it won't be so scary.
The second suggestion is, actively go easy on yourself. Treat yourself. Get comfortable. Remind yourself of what makes you feel calm and spacious and resourced.
Look for these features in sensations. Look at something pretty. Play gentle music you like. Smell a fragrance you like. Unfurl your softest blanket. Etc.
It is not artificial that you're doing it for yourself. You can comfort yourself.
Show yourself that it's safe to be with you. That you're capable of holding your hand.
As for the suicidal ideations. Acknowledge it. Don't fight it, per se. It's there for a reason. What is that reason? (Again, curiosity.) And as long as you remember that your decisions are made from some other place, some other part of you, then you won't harm yourself, and you won't be unsafe.