30 Minutes to Vertical

I couldn’t get out of bed this morning. For the past two days, my left hemisphere “story-teller” (ST) brain (see previous post, “The Story of the Story Teller”) has been running grim, ominous cognitive loops over and over. It has exhausted me and left me feeling depressed and somewhat hopeless.

A CT scan earlier this week revealed I have heart disease (atherosclerosis with calcifications) in my heart, abdominal, and thoracic aortas and arteries. Last week, the eye doctor told me I have cataracts. And the family doctor called and said I have not one, but two, painfully broken ribs that are healing slowly because I also have osteoporosis. Sigh.

As a result of these known facts, the “story teller” (which adds theories, memories, and beliefs to known data) started “talking” about all the things that are unknown but possible. ST seemed to be culling and combing through everything I’ve ever known, believed, and experienced regarding old age, illness, and, yes, death. Simply put, it just would not shut up. Even though I used DBT skills such as distraction, mindfulness, and activities, it would pick up where it left off as soon as the DBT practice was complete.

Not one to give up, I decided this morning to treat my left brain “story teller” like a very chatty co-worker I once had. She talked endlessly and I couldn’t focus. So one day, I turned my chair and said, “It seems as though you’d like to talk. I have a half hour lunch break coming up. We can talk then. But for now, I’m doing creative writing and I need silence, okay?”

It worked. I had set a boundary—in a nonjudgmental, friendly way—but a boundary, nonetheless. To make it stick, I had lunch with this woman frequently and, mostly, I listened. And, lo and behold, she stuck to her end of the bargain perhaps because I’d given her my undivided attention and met her need to be heard.

So, I gave my own chatty left brain story teller the same option this morning. From 8:00 to 8:30 A.M., it could freely create scenarios and theories. I would give it my full attention. Observe which cognitive loops that were running.  Take notes without judgment. And check the facts at a later time. However, when the 30 minutes were up, I was going back to the joy of living right here right now and the appreciation and fullness of being alive at this present moment. At the end of the allotted time, I prayed and breathed mindfully. At 8:31, I got out of bed and went to the window where the sun was shining and the sky was blue.