I’ve been thinking lately about self-sabotage.

I’ve been considering the number of times my life has taken a hard right turn due to self-sabotage.

Throughout my life, I’ve chased intensity, thinking it would bring me intimacy, or thinking it would be (or make me) more interesting.

As I was considering, my thoughts went back to High School. There was this one girl, I’ll call her “Beth” (not her real name). She was sweet, considerate, beautiful of countenance and heart. We’d known each other since I was in grade school. She was the real deal. Just taking a guess here, but I’m fairly certain she had secure attachment. Her relationship with her parents was enviable! And while we had never come right out to say it, we’d kind-of taken our friendship right to the point of “liking each other”.

And just then, this group of three girls, who were all friends, started flirting with me. It was like they had some unspoken (or maybe spoken?) contest to see who could get my attention the most. Of course, I was flattered. And a little over-confident. I decided to try and get close with all three! And for a short while, it worked…until it didn’t (shocker, I know). Looking back, I don’t think any of them were actually interested in me at all. It was just a game for them.

I could’ve had intimacy (meaningful connection) with Beth, but didn’t recognize how good it was, and I went for intrigue and intensity instead. All that resulted in was humiliation.

And regret. One day, after the girls had their fun, “Beth” walked up to me and spelled it out. She was hoping we would start dating, but then I suddenly ghosted her (she didn’t actually say ghosted – this was in the 80s, after all). In my chase for intensity, I’d hurt my friend. She wasn’t interested in me any more. Of course, I tried apologizing, tried reestablishing trust with her. It was too late. I’d say “that ship had sailed”, but it’s more like it sank.

I could build a fleet with all the ships I’ve sunk.

Sunk… such a weird sounding word. For that matter, so are sink and sank.

Oof.

Someone shared this image with me a few weeks ago, and I held onto it with the intent to write something about detox, and what it might look like for me. But then…life.

I think I wrote unraveled since, and in it I wrote about trauma triggers, and how I get triggers, but thanks to my ADHD I also get what I’ve coined compulses.

The singular way compulses have historically hit me hardest is boredom. As long as I can recall, to be bored, silent, and alone has always been very uncomfortable for me.

From childhood, the one thing my parent(s) wanted most from me would be to sit quietly and be a compliant child. But “for the life of me” and for most of my life, that is something I just suck at!

This past week has been different.

The week before was amazing, but left me feeling shippy. I expected this week to be hugely difficult for me. Times of transition can be really challenging, even in the best of circumstances.

I need to pause here and talk affect regulation for a minute. I eluded to it in my WoT Work post. WoT work is all about affect regulation. Keeping myself in a good space, emotionally – physically and spiritually, too.

On a scale of 1-10, I view my ability to regulate affect in three tiers.

1-3: Dissociation. Something is bothering me and creating anxiety in me to the point that I may be flirting with fantasy (3) or I may have simply “checked out” – Elvis has left the building! (1). You might be wondering where I went – especially if I’m at a 1.

4-7: Regulation. I’m inside my WoT. At a 4, I’m conserving energy, but still self-aware. I could slide into dissociation, but I’m not. At a 7, all cylinders are firing, all systems go! Life is good. I’m feeling really good! You probably enjoy being around me.

8-10 Agitation. Life could be too good to be true. Or, it is more difficult than I can handle. I’m experiencing anxiety about one or maybe several aspects of life. I’m expending more energy than is sustainable trying to handle these stressors. I’m anxious, and you’re probably experiencing me as being very intense! I’m probably looking for a release valve to get some of the pressure off my nervous system. And I’m likely looking in poor sources for that release valve.

This past week, my affect regulation meter has been stuck at 4. And what’s interesting is that I’ve had some positive/exciting stuff happen, and I’ve also experienced some potentially negative/exciting (anxiety inducing) stuff as well. Yet, that meter stayed, unwavering, at 4.

I have been waiting for my inner critic to show up and tell me I’m not enough. Not doing enough. He has remained quiet. I thought my inner child might’ve started whimpering, wanting more stimulation and excitement. He, too, has remained rather chill.

At 4, with no intervention, I would expect to eventually slide down into dissociation. It hasn’t happened. At 4, I normally would be looking for ways to up-regulate. New sources of excitement. I haven’t needed that.

This is new, and creates its own (low level of) anxiety for me. But I’m learning to be okay with it. I’m noticing it’s okay to just be okay. Silent and alone can be comfortable.

Is this what normal is like?

Have you ever picked at a string in a piece of fabric (a shirt, pants, something else), and that fabric ended up unraveling?

No? Okay, good. Me neither! End of story.

Just kidding.

I’ve done this with actual fabric – and not actual fabric. What I’m saying is that this happens sometimes in the fabric of my own mind. The string is a thought, or more like an impulse. And then the impulse turns into a compulse. My therapist has helped me identify it as a part of my ADHD. But I think maybe it’s not entirely specific just to ADHD. So, I’m quite curious if it’s something you have experienced?

And yes, compulse is a real word. For purposes of this post, I’m using it somewhat improperly, as it’s an action verb and I’m using it more as a noun. But it fits my context and purpose.

I got a compulse recently. A thread of thought formed in my mind. A mere suggestion at first. But I knew it was going to be a problem. Like that string poking out on a pair of jeans. I felt “unsafe” in sharing about it with anyone else, reasoning (with myself) that I didn’t want my compulse to become their trigger.

Quick rabbit trail of sorts:

Trigger. It’s a buzz word. Triggers seem to be everywhere! People include “trigger warnings” even in stuff they blog about. Others talk about “being triggered” by all sorts of things. Trigger isn’t just a buzz word, it’s a very well-worn word. But what is a trigger? I mean, literally, it’s the mechanism on a weapon or other device. But the word that gets thrown around so much is really referring to the phrase trauma trigger, which is “a psychological stimulus that prompts involuntary recall of a previous traumatic experience”. Yeah, I got that straight from Wikipedia. Bottom line: not everything that is called a trigger is actually a trigger. Not even close! I’ll also quickly mention that (actual) trauma always involves an adverse experience. Have you heard of the ACES scoring? Trauma forms from adverse experiences but not every adversity will automatically result in trauma – because different people experience and process adversity in wildly different ways. When adversity is not processed in a healthy way, however, it gets “stuck” – as trauma. And then people get “triggered” by their trauma.

What’s the difference, then, between a (trauma) trigger and my use of the word compulse? A trigger prompts involuntary recall, whereas what I’m calling a compulse prompts involuntary – and unhealthy – curiosity (not recall). A trigger brings into the present a trauma from the past. A compulse starts in the present with an idea that is not rooted in the past.

So…jumping out of the rabbit hole…I don’t want my compulse to ever trigger someone else’s trauma. But it could still happen. After all, involuntary recall is…involuntary! But when this compulse hit me, I chose not to talk about it with anyone. I reasoned (poorly) with myself that I was keeping those around me safe by not talking about it. And besides, I could handle it.

Connection is the opposite of addiction.

I’ve heard, read, and said this phrase at least a thousand times over the course of my recovery journey (so far). I thought I could handle it.

And then, in isolation, I kept picking at the string.

Pretty soon, the fabric of my mind started to unravel. My choices became less reasonable. Still, I fought to handle it on my own. I also tried to hide the emerging “snag” – loss of energy, distraction, headaches, chest pains, and shoulder tension. All these were messages from my body, telling me “this is not going well at all, please stop!”

Then, in a panic state, I decided maybe I needed to talk about it. First, my “sponsor” (not the title I use but hopefully that decently communicates his role). Then several other guys in a virtual recovery meeting. A local friend. My wife. All returned a compassionate and caring response. And, the compulse lost its appeal/energy.

Then, today, my therapist and I talked about it together. She talked me through strategies/tools for working through a compulse, next time it happens – which I’m sure it will. I’m not anxious to try them out – I hope for a long lull before something like this happens again. But I’m grateful to have some better options. And this I know: my first strategy will be to go ahead and talk about it first, before I unravel.

We live in a small garage apartment-type setup. Basically, one room with an attached bathroom. And something in that bathroom stinks. And no…not that sort of stink! There’s a countertop area along one wall, with a sink and a vanity area. As best we can tell, it’s coming from a wall under/behind that vanity area. I think something (a mouse maybe?) crawled in and died in that wall. Another plausible theory is that the previous occupant’s cat had a litter box in that space, and maybe didn’t always have the best aim. Anyway…yeah, it’s not pleasant!

I don’t always notice the stink. We have some remedial stuff strategically placed in the area – a box of baking soda, a charcoal filter thing, and a “Scentsy” wax warmer. All help to some degree or mask the odor to an extent. But more than that, I spend many of waking hours in the apartment, with the stink. Plainly said, I don’t notice it after a while. As the saying goes, I become nose blind.

Then my wife will come home, walk into the apartment, and declare she can still smell it. I feel almost defensive when she says that. I want to go do something to try and fix it. Or I question whether she’s just making it up. After all, I don’t smell it at all any more! Then I’ll walk into the bathroom, get my nose close to the wall, and bam! Suddenly I can smell it! In fact, it makes me nauseous!

Everyone can be nose blind. We walk around in the house of our own making – aka our lives, and we don’t notice the stuff that stinks. A relational hurt that has gone unmended. Some past abuse or abandonment that we tend to minimize or just can’t really deal with so we hide it, or hide from it. Grief. Loss. Tragedy.

This is where story work comes in. And not just doing the work of writing or speaking the story. But it’s the sharing of the story that begins to change things. What inevitably happens is that when we tell our story to someone else, their body will respond to us. It’s natural, and not something they have any control over. It is their embodied response to the stinky areas of our house that can bring up a new awareness in our body – which also brings about a new awareness in our minds, our feelings.

I want to correct something I already said. It’s not that everyone can be nose blind. In fact, everyone is nose blind. This is why, so desperately, we need others. People who’ve done some of their own story work, who know how to be compassionate – to themself and others. Though it often helps, these people don’t have to be trained professionals. We can all learn to hold each others’ stories with care. Sometimes, we’ve experienced such deep hurt that a trained therapist really, really helps – is necessary. To really remediate the stink of deep trauma, there might need to be some deeper demo and reconstruction. But oftentimes, it’s enough just having someone to talk with, who can listen and ask questions, and who isn’t the same kind of nose blind as us.

Oh…and if anyone knows a great way to get smells out of walls, without removing said walls, lemme know. K?

I took the above photo earlier this year, while waiting for the Metra (train) to take my family and me from West Chicago into the heart of the city. I like the visual symmetry of it.

In recovery, we often talk about “staying between the rails”. What are those rails? I’ve found there are a few “sets”, really. I don’t think the tracks are nearly as straight as those in the photo above. There are a lot of twists and turns in recovery – as in life!

Even so, I’ve been feeling pretty confident in and pleased with my forward progress. The components that have built the tracks for my recovery include reading books, listening to podcasts, regular meetings and conversations with others, journaling, blogging, story work, somatic practices, mindfulness and meditation. And, of course, weekly therapy sessions as long as my schedule allows. I’m still doing all those things, but something changed. Somewhere along the journey, I’ve gotten off track.

Near the beginning of this year, I was working through recovery as best I could, then I came to a point where I felt like I wasn’t getting anywhere. This was when I sought out a therapist, and progress soon resumed. I was so grateful and relieved!

But here I am, again.

I had a frank discussion with my therapist yesterday. We agreed that the two tracks I’ve been building my recovery upon are learning and application. And I’ve been chugging along at a pretty rapid pace! Problem is, construction of the learning rail has outpaced the application rail, while I’ve still been going full steam ahead! I am “suddenly” finding myself out of steam and teetering precariously on only one rail. And, I’m juggling all the stuff I’ve been trying to learn about trauma, adhd, and grief – while wobbling on that one rail!

I need to slow down. I must! I’ve got to back up and work on the application rail!

I have a plan for that, too. I’m taking a pause on reading any new recovery-related books, and I don’t plan to even listen to new podcasts for a while. I will continue the other components, though blogging will likely slow down. I’ve been writing something daily for over a month now – often just answering the daily prompt on my other blog. It was a fun experiment, but at this point on the recovery path, it’s not good for me to continue that pace. I need to slow down. I will slow down.

There’s something really calming in just writing that.

One of the books I read, in my haste for learning was Try Softer by Aundi Kolber. At the end of each chapter, she includes some questions for application – which I breezed right past! I have decided to circle back, starting today, and deliberately work through those questions. I feel a lot of resistance coming up, even as I write out that commitment. I don’t really want to slow down, and I feel anxious about my ability to do the work. This just tells me how much I need it!

So, here goes…