When a physically stressful event put my mindfulness practices to the test, I was amazed at how small changes in my thinking calmed the mental chaos.
During moments of discomfort, whether physical or mental, it is easy to spiral into mental chaos. This is especially true if you suffer from anxiety like I do. Thoughts of doom, worries about what-if scenarios, and overly monitoring my body and environment are my typical anxious responses to such discomfort. However, with my Commitment to Calm, I started practicing mindfulness techniques. Yesterday, these skills were put to the test. I was impressed at how small changes in my thinking calmed an otherwise physically chaotic experience.
Mental chaos from POTS
As I’ve mentioned before, I was diagnosed with POTS, postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, about five months ago. With POTS, I experienced an elevated heartrate as a result of standing up or moving around. The last thing I needed as an anxious person was a racing heart. The more my heartrate increased for seemingly no reason, the more anxious I became. The more anxious I became, the more my heartrate increased. It was a real mindfuck.
Needless to say, the initial experience sent my anxiety into overdrive. I’m sure this was exacerbated by the long-term stress of the pandemic, but the out-of-control heartrate was the final straw. Instead of being anxious periodically, I was anxious always. The anxiety and POTS became intertwined. For a while it was difficult to tell if my heartrate was elevated because I felt anxious or because of POTS. Was POTS making me anxious? I couldn’t tell which came first. Although it only took a few weeks to get my heartrate under control, it’s taken months to get my anxiety back to its normal baseline.
Another episode
Thankfully, my POTS symptoms have been well-controlled with medicine. Other than a sporadic flutter or small spike in heartrate, things have been getting back to normal. Until yesterday. Ten minutes before leaving to pick up the kids from school, I noticed a flutter. “A funny heartbeat, completely harmless,” I reassured myself. And then it happened again. And it happened when I bent over to put my shoes on. And again, with increasing frequency.
The entire time I drove to pick up the kids, waited for them, and drove home, my heartbeat was irregular. It wasn’t racing like in the past, but it wasn’t normal. I felt like bubbles were moving through my heart, or a tiny fish were flopping in my chest. It was beyond uncomfortable to experience. Thankfully, another mom helped out at pick up, and my sister was heading over to my house anyway. So, I wasn’t without help for long. I did as the doctor instructed in the past, lying flat on the couch until a normal heartrate returned. I laid there for ninety minutes until the flutters ceased.
Small changes in thinking
A similar experience in the past was enough to give me a panic attack. Even after I was diagnosed with POTS, knew what was happening in my body, and the doctor reassured me the condition was not deadly, I struggled to remain calm. My traditional anxiety coping mechanism was control. Worried thoughts about controlling my environment or monitoring my body gave my mind something to do. In moments like these, I would worry, obsess, and try to rationalize the fear away. I would want to run from any of the uncomfortable sensations in my body, unknowingly throwing myself into a loop of worry.
That didn’t happen yesterday. As I laid on the couch, I practiced the tactics I’ve been using to end the war with my anxiety. Instead of falling into a spiral of worry, I remained present with the uncomfortable sensations. I didn’t try to distract myself or run from the flutter. I sat there with it and witnessed what was happening in my body. Not as a worried monitor, but instead as a curious observer, I listened to my heart. It kept me mentally present and brought calm to an otherwise chaotic experience.
Physically, it was still uncomfortable. A flutter is never going to feel good, especially an arrythmia that lasts ninety minutes. The mental experience was drastically different, though. This time, I exercised self-compassion. Instead of trying to convince myself I had no right to be anxious, I was kind to myself. I gave myself permission to experience the discomfort and acknowledge the unease I felt.
I responded the same way I would to a friend or my kids. “Huh, that’s weird. Let’s lay down and rest. See if that helps. How do you feel now? Still fluttering. Okay, take a few deep breaths.” Without being wrapped up in the panic, I was open and curious. I concentrated on what was happening, how I felt with each flutter, the different sensations occurring throughout my body. I surrendered to the experience instead of trying to control it. As a result, I felt uncomfortable, but never anxious.
Practicing for this moment
I’m sure this sounds esoteric to some of you. I get it. As a skeptical, literal, practical thinker myself, I’ve had to suspend my disbelief and trust the process. Sitting with my emotions, inhabiting my entire body, and being present in the moment just don’t come naturally to me. I’m not even sure I understand all these things just yet. That being said, I’m working on it. I’m practicing mindfulness habits that I know have a big impact on thinking and well-being.
In the last few weeks, I did several meditations which helped me focus on being present in my body and aware of my thoughts. One was a guided meditation by Diana Winston at UCLA’s Mindful Awareness Research Center. In this particular training, she walked participants through different levels of awareness to try during a meditation practice. I found it helpful in teaching me to be aware of my thoughts, almost like shining a light on my thinking.
I also did a body scan meditation on my own. Body scan meditations are exactly as they sound – you devote your awareness to each body part individually. While listening to meditation music, I spent a few minutes focusing my attention on a single body part, like my hand. After experiencing all of the sensations in that body part, I moved to the next body part. I continued until I progressed through my whole body. If you’re interested in trying a guided body scan, Headspace offers a free one here.
I’m not saying these two meditations solved my problem. It takes a lot more practice than that. But, they did give me some good practice. In addition, they offered formal practice in mindfulness techniques, which I could continue to practice throughout the day.
When I meditate, the mindful awareness stays with me, even when I’m not meditating. I’m becoming more aware of my thoughts as they occur organically. In other words, the meditation practice is a formal training in mindfulness skills that can be applied throughout the day in informal ways. When I catch myself in a thought pattern or pause to breathe, I’m practicing the mindfulness skills. It’s all practice for an experience like yesterday.
I have no doubt my Commitment to Calm changed my experience yesterday. Learning to pause and breathe while remaining present in my body were an antidote for anxiety. I have since talked to the Cardiologist, who doesn’t think this episode was POTS related. So now I’m left wondering what else is going on and if this will happen again. I’m going to continue to practice so I can be prepared for the next time.
I’m surprised at how different this experience was compared to the initial POTS episodes few months ago. It wasn’t perfect and I have a lot to learn, but it helped so much! I still had the physical ramifications to deal with, like the resulting fatigue, but not the mental exhaustion. It’s amazing how seemingly small changes in my thinking helped me remain calm in a chaotic situation.
Thoughts? Leave me a comment!
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