Exposure Therapy In The Moment
I’m writing this from the passenger seat of the car, as Dad drives closer to the Tennessee-Kentucky border. I’m on my way back to Chicago, something that has scared me for a long time. Sure, I’ve been looking forward to certain things back in Chicago, but considering that two of my biggest triggers of negative thoughts are boredom and loneliness, I can’t deny that I spent the majority of the night last night tossing and turning.
The article I read – and blogged about – last week gave me the idea of trying to do exposure therapy on myself about going back, but I quickly found a question I couldn’t answer: how is it possible to reduce anxiety in situations where it’s impossible to prepare by simulating the experience?
For some situations, like the beginning of the pandemic, I couldn’t predict that it would happen or what it would look like. But for a situation like this, it was all too easy to picture myself being bored and lonely, pacing around my apartment and being too afraid to leave, or at any time in the first two weeks when I won’t be able to leave at all as I’m coming from a state where there are a lot of cases.
Even though I could picture many specific moments along the way – waking up far too early in the morning, watching the garage door close with me on the outside, sitting in the car and thinking just like I am now – there was no way to do an exposure like I would do for a more concrete fear.
Even when I was working with a psychiatrist to learn how exposure therapy worked in the first place, I couldn’t do proper exposures for the things that made me the most anxious, like inpatient hospital stays. I could do things like listen to the sounds I’d hear in the hospital, lay in bed, and write vividly imagined stories of what it would be like, but deep inside, I would know it wasn’t real, so I’d never feel that primal fear or have a chance to overcome it.
Right now, I’m pleased to say that I’m feeling okay. I haven’t cried yet, and it’s been fun talking with my dad about a variety of video games. I have plenty of entertainment in the car, including my Switch with Animal Crossing booted up, stories loaded onto my phone, and a new cross-stitching pattern of hobbit meal times to adorn my kitchen. But that doesn’t mean I’ll feel okay forever, or that I won’t break down crying the minute Dad leaves me in the apartment by myself.
My reaction to the drive so far, however, is showing me that I don’t necessarily need to expose myself to every potential experience ahead of time to feel okay. I haven’t done a drive this long before, nor have I figured out a concrete plan to be alone during a pandemic. But so far, I’m fine. I don’t need to tiptoe around this situation, because so far, I’ve been more afraid of being afraid than of the situation itself.
And even though I couldn’t do exposure therapy to prepare me for today or the days and weeks to come, I was able to take several steps towards making my life in Chicago easier. I have a hold on an exciting new book from the library, a box of new miniatures to paint, and three new cross-stitching patterns to fight boredom. I reached out to local friends to set up a support system for any times when I’m not feeling fine. And I’ve dealt with as many chores and practical matters as I could to give myself more time for self-care measures like working out, eating healthy, and spending time on my favorite hobbies.
For situations like these, this seems to be the best way to go. Before, when I’m worrying about the different feelings I may have, I may not be able to replicate the experience, but I can take as many steps as I can to make the actual day easier. During, I can practice self-care and mindfulness, being aware of how I feel and the types of thoughts in my head. And after, once I’m settled in my apartment, I can look back at this process and see what worked and what didn’t for next time.
I’ve gotten into the point where, even though I’m terribly afraid of hospitals, I can pack a hospital bag and get myself there without focusing too much on what will happen once I arrive. I hope that this time, I’ll learn even more about my reactions in different scenarios, and I’ll be able to go into the next occasion like this more prepared. I won’t be able to go up the pyramid chart like I did with my psychiatrist, but I can prepare myself to make the day’s exposure easier, hopefully achieving similar results to what I would have gotten from proper exposure therapy.
Ellie, a writer new to the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.