Just for the fun of it I decided to type in "CBT" in the Google Play store. Whatdayaknow, there are a bunch of apps that walk you through the CBT process! A bunch, as in dozens, geared for everything from anxiety and depression to stress and jealousy (I didn't know that jealousy was something that someone would want to use CBT for, but it makes sense if it is making that person's life difficult). The top app that popped up is a diary app that uses CBT to help redirect thinking patterns - basically the same things that I have been doing with my fear of heights and rockclimbing. What's interesting is over 50,000 people have downloaded it. It makes me wonder if the people using it truly understand the concepts behind CBT or if they're simply following the directions under the app, which while it was written by a "licensed clinical psychologist with over 20 years experience" (according to the app's description), is not a substitute for substantive research or the guidance of a therapist.
I suppose my advice to you, my readers, is that CBT works (I'm proof), but that you should be careful in trying anything by yourself. If you decide to try CBT, great - but do your research and find a therapist to guide you in at least the first steps. It seems to me that if you go about facing your phobias the wrong way, you could further reinforce your fears rather than conquer them, by pushing yourself too far too fast and not knowing the redirection techniques used in CBT. If I hadn't focused so hard on learning my mantra about my fear-trigger being a learned response and nothing more than a wash of chemicals in my brain and body when I'm off the ground, there's a good chance that I would have had a bad experience climbing - and I'd probably still be stuck on that rockwall, a month later.
Can't you just see it - I'd have to have all my meals brought to me while firefighters tried to figure out how to pry my fingers off the handholds without breaking bones. (Not a good way to spend the new year, and darned hard to explain to the kids!)
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
It's the little things
Even though my rock climbing lessons are officially over (I'm still debating whether to take more lessons or go climbing on my own, indoors), I'm finding that this journey has affected more than just my ability to climb a man-made monstrosity. In little ways I'm finding my life improved, and rather unexpectedly.
The other day I decided to clean the top of a bookshelf. I avoid cleaning high places as a matter of course, partially because I'm short and so I can't see it (if I can't see it, it's not there, right?), and partially because that would involve standing on a stool. In any case, the next thing I knew, I was standing on a stool with a dust rag, cleaning a depresisngly well entrenched colony of dust off my shelves. It wasn't until I was halfway through wiping that embarassing shelf down that I realized that I was on a stool and wasn't in the least bit nervous, let alone scared. That felt like a huge breakthrough to me - I was no longer at war with stools!
It wasn't until much, much later that it occured to me that not only had the stool not triggered a fear response while I was on it, I didn't even think twice about climbing up to clean that shelf. It didn't even occur to me that I was supposed to be afraid of being off the ground. To me, this means that the CBT that I used, alongside the climbing lessons, worked on more than the superficial level of being able to climb a wall. It worked on my subconsious, so that I am no longer hyper-aware of the different levels that I may need to be on. I don't pause before I stand on a stool, or climb on a chair to get something I can't reach from the ground.
I've come to the conclusion that I need to do some more research on how CBT can fundamentally change a person's thinking and response - beyond what I originally thought - which was that it would help me work past my fear. It's done more than that: it's fundamentally changed how I look at the world and where I am spacially in it. Occupational and physical therapists call this "spacial awareness," and it's something that I never realized how hyper-aware I was until I no longer felt it. Facinating!
The other day I decided to clean the top of a bookshelf. I avoid cleaning high places as a matter of course, partially because I'm short and so I can't see it (if I can't see it, it's not there, right?), and partially because that would involve standing on a stool. In any case, the next thing I knew, I was standing on a stool with a dust rag, cleaning a depresisngly well entrenched colony of dust off my shelves. It wasn't until I was halfway through wiping that embarassing shelf down that I realized that I was on a stool and wasn't in the least bit nervous, let alone scared. That felt like a huge breakthrough to me - I was no longer at war with stools!
It wasn't until much, much later that it occured to me that not only had the stool not triggered a fear response while I was on it, I didn't even think twice about climbing up to clean that shelf. It didn't even occur to me that I was supposed to be afraid of being off the ground. To me, this means that the CBT that I used, alongside the climbing lessons, worked on more than the superficial level of being able to climb a wall. It worked on my subconsious, so that I am no longer hyper-aware of the different levels that I may need to be on. I don't pause before I stand on a stool, or climb on a chair to get something I can't reach from the ground.
I've come to the conclusion that I need to do some more research on how CBT can fundamentally change a person's thinking and response - beyond what I originally thought - which was that it would help me work past my fear. It's done more than that: it's fundamentally changed how I look at the world and where I am spacially in it. Occupational and physical therapists call this "spacial awareness," and it's something that I never realized how hyper-aware I was until I no longer felt it. Facinating!
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Do or do not... there is no try
So, I just had my last class of rock climbing. I wouldn't say that I'm a proficient climber. I wouldn't say I'm over my fear of heights... but I can say that I've gotten more out of this than expected. I started fully expecting to never get more than 5 feet off the ground. I also was fairly certain that I would get stuck and need the fire department to come rescue me - or at the very least the instructor would have to come up and pry my fear-frozen fingers off their handholds.
None of that happened.
On arrival at my last class, the instructor had me write my name on a shockingly bright piece of tape. She then climbed up the wall (at an impressive rate of speed I might add) to hang a bag of candy from the very top of the wall. The idea was to climb as high as I could, and stick my tape there - kind of like an explorer in the British or Spanish Empires planting the flag to claim a new spot of land. Not that others weren't already there... but that wasn't the point. The point was to lay my claim to my highest point, not be the first person to do so.
The other three people in my class climbed before me. One made it about 5 feet up. Another made it about 10 feet up. I had climbed higher on my first day - and I was the one who was self-admittedly terrified of step stools. I really tried not to feel superior, because I'm not. I'm still decidedly nervous when I leave my beloved ground... I've just learned to work past that fear. Fear is nothing but a bunch of chemicals washing the brain and causing the heart rate to go up. It's either a learned or instinctive response to stimuli - in and of itself fear is truly only in your mind. But back to my climb:
As I started my climb, I heard Yoda in the back of my mind. "Do or do not, there is no try." (Yes, I am that much of a nerd). At the crest of each little lip that I had to move past, I needed to breathe past my fear-response; to take the time to remind myself that my panic is simply a learned response to heights, and that I was perfectly safe. Honestly, just about the worst thing that could happen would be to break a nail - which incidentally I did. Several times.
To get to the point, I made it to the top. I placed my little pink strip of tape with my name at the very tippy top of the rock wall. And I dumped a bunch of chocolates down for the kids waiting at the bottom to scrabble over. Personally, I wouldn't want to eat a Hershey's Kiss that fell 30 feet, but apparently kids aren't so picky. Godiva dark chocolate truffles are a different story...
If you look really closely, you'll see a tiny strip of pink tape at the very top, just to the left of the bag hanging from a nylon tie on a carabiner clip. That one is mine! I claimed that piece of artificially crafted rock in the name of Leena (but not England, or Spain. They can keep their rocks... I have mine).
None of that happened.
On arrival at my last class, the instructor had me write my name on a shockingly bright piece of tape. She then climbed up the wall (at an impressive rate of speed I might add) to hang a bag of candy from the very top of the wall. The idea was to climb as high as I could, and stick my tape there - kind of like an explorer in the British or Spanish Empires planting the flag to claim a new spot of land. Not that others weren't already there... but that wasn't the point. The point was to lay my claim to my highest point, not be the first person to do so.
The other three people in my class climbed before me. One made it about 5 feet up. Another made it about 10 feet up. I had climbed higher on my first day - and I was the one who was self-admittedly terrified of step stools. I really tried not to feel superior, because I'm not. I'm still decidedly nervous when I leave my beloved ground... I've just learned to work past that fear. Fear is nothing but a bunch of chemicals washing the brain and causing the heart rate to go up. It's either a learned or instinctive response to stimuli - in and of itself fear is truly only in your mind. But back to my climb:
As I started my climb, I heard Yoda in the back of my mind. "Do or do not, there is no try." (Yes, I am that much of a nerd). At the crest of each little lip that I had to move past, I needed to breathe past my fear-response; to take the time to remind myself that my panic is simply a learned response to heights, and that I was perfectly safe. Honestly, just about the worst thing that could happen would be to break a nail - which incidentally I did. Several times.
To get to the point, I made it to the top. I placed my little pink strip of tape with my name at the very tippy top of the rock wall. And I dumped a bunch of chocolates down for the kids waiting at the bottom to scrabble over. Personally, I wouldn't want to eat a Hershey's Kiss that fell 30 feet, but apparently kids aren't so picky. Godiva dark chocolate truffles are a different story...
If you look really closely, you'll see a tiny strip of pink tape at the very top, just to the left of the bag hanging from a nylon tie on a carabiner clip. That one is mine! I claimed that piece of artificially crafted rock in the name of Leena (but not England, or Spain. They can keep their rocks... I have mine).
Friday, February 8, 2013
It gets easier
On my third week of class, my husband couldn't make it. Our not-so-reliable babysitter couldn't make it because she was dying of the plague. Or perhaps it was a simple headcold... I've never been able to tell the difference with her. I felt like I was an early astronaut, being sent into space by myself, with no help of rescue if things went wrong. And I had a horrible suspicion that it would go very, very wrong.
I was the one who was wrong. Without my husband there, I had nobody to prove anything to - except myself. Heck, I could sit it out and not climb at all, and tell my husband I made it to the top. I could tell him that I climbed Mount Everest, and he would have no proof either way (except for the fact that I would have to have a Star Trek transporter to get there, up, down, and back in the hour an a half that I was gone. As I don't have a transporter in my purse, that really wasn't an option.
I had completed several climbing classes, and guess what - each time it gets easier! On my first climb I got past my goal of 5 feet, and made it about halfway up the 30 foot wall. On my next lesson, I made it about 20 feet. The first week without my husband I learned how to trust the rope to swing over to better handholds. Trusting the rope and my belayer was a huge breakthrough. Honestly, I sat there for a good solid minute before I could convince my hands and feet to let go for the mere second that it took to swing over to that elusive handhold that was just out of reach.
It felt like cheating.
For some unknown reason, I had it in my mind that it was cheating if I used the rope to get to a new spot on that wall. It was at that moment that I realized that climbing isn't so much about doing it all by myself. Climbing isn't a solo sport... unless you're one of those crazy freeclimbers - I don't know what they're thinking when they do that. Seriously - what type of mental process does it take for someone to think, "I am going to climb a rock without any safety ropes." It must be a special form of crazy. To me, climbing is challenging myself to push past my fear, to solve the mental puzzle that is planning not just my next move, but the next 3 moves. I don't like getting stuck with no idea on how to proceed. That's when the panic sets in.
Speaking of panic, I found that by my third day climbing I wasn't having utter panic at the thought of being off my beloved terra firma. I felt nervous, jittery, tense with anticipation of the fear that I knew I would feel, but it wasn't a mindless panic anymore. The CBT was working. I was retraining my brain to have a new reaction to a stressful situation, one that didn't involve mindless reactions learned through years of panic, but rather a logical, well-thought out process of talking myself out of learned behavior.
I find that there is a cycle of defeatism that occurs with my phobia (and experts in the field believe it as well). First comes fear of panicking in the situation. Then the situation happens, and a panic attack occurs, reinforcing the belief that panic would happen. The next time the trigger situation is met, because panic happened before the mind is sure it will happen... so it does. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy. It's defeatist. It makes me mad that I, a rational human being, have let myself do and be something so illogical. So Pavlovian Somehow I had believed that I was above such conditioning. I also believed, in my heart of hearts, that something that is so simple on first glance (CBT), wouldn't work.
I proved myself wrong.
I was the one who was wrong. Without my husband there, I had nobody to prove anything to - except myself. Heck, I could sit it out and not climb at all, and tell my husband I made it to the top. I could tell him that I climbed Mount Everest, and he would have no proof either way (except for the fact that I would have to have a Star Trek transporter to get there, up, down, and back in the hour an a half that I was gone. As I don't have a transporter in my purse, that really wasn't an option.
I had completed several climbing classes, and guess what - each time it gets easier! On my first climb I got past my goal of 5 feet, and made it about halfway up the 30 foot wall. On my next lesson, I made it about 20 feet. The first week without my husband I learned how to trust the rope to swing over to better handholds. Trusting the rope and my belayer was a huge breakthrough. Honestly, I sat there for a good solid minute before I could convince my hands and feet to let go for the mere second that it took to swing over to that elusive handhold that was just out of reach.
It felt like cheating.
For some unknown reason, I had it in my mind that it was cheating if I used the rope to get to a new spot on that wall. It was at that moment that I realized that climbing isn't so much about doing it all by myself. Climbing isn't a solo sport... unless you're one of those crazy freeclimbers - I don't know what they're thinking when they do that. Seriously - what type of mental process does it take for someone to think, "I am going to climb a rock without any safety ropes." It must be a special form of crazy. To me, climbing is challenging myself to push past my fear, to solve the mental puzzle that is planning not just my next move, but the next 3 moves. I don't like getting stuck with no idea on how to proceed. That's when the panic sets in.
Speaking of panic, I found that by my third day climbing I wasn't having utter panic at the thought of being off my beloved terra firma. I felt nervous, jittery, tense with anticipation of the fear that I knew I would feel, but it wasn't a mindless panic anymore. The CBT was working. I was retraining my brain to have a new reaction to a stressful situation, one that didn't involve mindless reactions learned through years of panic, but rather a logical, well-thought out process of talking myself out of learned behavior.
I find that there is a cycle of defeatism that occurs with my phobia (and experts in the field believe it as well). First comes fear of panicking in the situation. Then the situation happens, and a panic attack occurs, reinforcing the belief that panic would happen. The next time the trigger situation is met, because panic happened before the mind is sure it will happen... so it does. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy. It's defeatist. It makes me mad that I, a rational human being, have let myself do and be something so illogical. So Pavlovian Somehow I had believed that I was above such conditioning. I also believed, in my heart of hearts, that something that is so simple on first glance (CBT), wouldn't work.
I proved myself wrong.
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