Saturday, October 31, 2009
e-GAD, this is nothing new
One of the most accessible aspects of GAD, and probably my most pronounced manifestation of GAD-like psychological symptoms, is the predeliction toward extremely harsh self-criticism. In my experience, this self-criticism originally manifested itself as an inner voice expressing ceaseless doubt, perpetually questioning my choices or warning against impending failure. As a ten or elevent years old, I had no concept that this doubt was something other than who and what I was. In many ways, that realization did not occur until very recently, and still a perception that failure is ultimately the only possible outcome remains the cornerstone of my thinking. The primary difference now, as opposed to then, is that conscious awareness can at least attempt to actively counterpoint the assumption that failure is inevitable. In my youth, there was no cognitive third party intervening, there was the questioning, the doubt, and only acquiescence to its influence.
So it is probably no surprise that a majority of the goals set and endeavors undertaken at the time resulted in failure, when they were followed through to a result at all. Looking back across the windswept dunes that have consumed my memory, it seems to me that this pattern of self-doubt and manifest failure began around the time I was leaving elementary school. I can remember an incident around that time which serves as a reasonbly good example of the timber and tone my mind was taking at that age.
As a child, I was in love with drawing and drew or doodled compulsively. Literally, every piece of paper I came into contact with would be subjected to some doodle, shape, or object, if a means of making marks happened to be available. Subsequently, I had developed some rudimentary skill in the black art of picture making, by the time I was of middle school age. The particular episode that comes to mind was typical of the time: I am drawing when I should have been working on class work, and a small circle of my classmates had gathered around to watch. I suppose drawing was for me a means of gaining attention, as I learned very early that people enjoy watching the creative process in real time.
On one hand, I enjoyed being watched, it was generally positive attention, which was a sliver of light in the darkness to a pre-teen who felt completely alienated from his peers. On the other hand, I was always paranoid of making an error, or having to revise a drawing while people were looking on. However, it was not the watching that created a real issue, it was the compliments. The voice of doubt would not tolerate compliments, so it was paramount that each be actively deflected and, if at all possible, subtly discouraged. In this particular case, one of the huddled group extended a few kind words, something along the lines of "That's cool" or "I wish I could draw like that". In my mind, such commentary was patronizing at best, because what I was seeing was neither cool, nor something worth aspiring to. My eyes saw the flaws in proportion, the pose, composition, or shading. Every drawing was a failure of the vision I had in my mind, and part of my job as an aspiring artist was to remain acutely aware of these failures as a means of validating the voice of doubt and thereby furthering my dysfunctional relationship with art.
That said, the aforementioned complments had to be met with an impromptu dissertation detailing the shortcomings of the drawing at hand. I also felt compelled to inform the gathering that, in order to see what a real drawing should look like, they would have to check out my friend Chris' work. Chris was a buddy from the neighborhood, a friend none of the gathered circle would have known or met, because he was a couple of years older and had already started high school. Chris and I would sometimes hangout and draw together, working on the occasional Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fan comic (the Eastman and Laird turtles, not the fruity, "Cowabunga dude" nonsense put out by Archie Comics).
Mostly we skated around the neighborhood and played football. He could draw reasonably well, but for him it was more of a pastime, so he did not take it very seriously. Was he better than me in a technical sense? Even at the time, probably not, and it is highly likely that I was aware of this, but in that moment, it was more important that everyone present be aware I was in fact not very good at this drawing thing and that they should reserve their kind words for someone more deserving.
And my relationship with art and life only grew more virulent from there.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
I found GAD
Some people find God and in the idea of a universe Creator they find comfort, guidance, and strength. But I wasn't looking for God, and have not ever harbored any inclinations that I might come upon Him or Her or It. That bridge was crossed years ago, and I arrived on the other side with no semblance of peace and tranquility. I did, however, stumble upon the idea of infinity, effortless work, and the illusory nature of cognitive understanding. The truths of this Universe are not tangible, they are subliminal and intuitive, occupying the space between its physical contents. Our minds are wrought with delusions of solidity, permanence, and control. These concepts were welcomed by a mind overwhelmed with its own perpetual churning. And it is this perpetual motion machine that has proven to be life's double-edged sword.
What is GAD? Let's start with what GAD is not. GAD is not an excuse, an handicap, or a reason for pity. It is not the sole reason for failure, and is not the only hindrance to success. What it is, is an explanation. It is an ancient, crackling light bulb tentatively pressing tendrils of dulled, fragile, amber light into a an omnipresent darkness. GAD is quite literally a state of mind that permeates the entirety of one's physical and cerebral self, creating a pervasive unease that becomes so endemic as to become invisible. GAD morphs into a murky, semi-translucent filter, altering nearly all sensory input, generating compromised output. In this way GAD disrupts one's central processing, subtly, but continuously, distorting reason and perception. GAD operates around the conscious mind, enveloping thought and feeling and action, without ever making its presence readily apparent. You only recognize its existence by having your eyes opened to its tells.
GAD is an acronym for Generalized Anxiety Disorder. According to the Mayo Clinic, generalized anxiety disorder is a chronic disorder that typically begins to manifest in youth and progressively grows more pronounced and disruptive throughout one's life. Their list of symptoms include personality traits that feel eerily familiar, including obsession with large or small concerns, depression, restlessness, difficulty concentrating, memory problems, and trouble sleeping. In children, symptoms like obsession with punctuality, perfectionism, and lack of confidence are commonly associated with the disorder. None of these things alone led me to believe GAD is the albatross I've hung round my neck, but combined with a lot of the medical literature available online, it was undeniable. The descriptions of GAD behaviors and accounts from diagnosed sufferers felt positively biographical.
Self-diagnosis is fraught with hazards. It is something modern medicine would universally discourage as something the layman should absolutely not do. The risk is that self-diagnosis will yield self-treatment, which could ultimately become self-medication. This is the stuff addictions are made of, particularly where anxiety disorders are concerned. It makes intuitive sense, and the medical community seems to agree, that anxiety disorders can often lead to destructive coping strategies. Anxiety keeps the sufferer under constant tension, and tension breeds pressure, and pressure begs an outlet. One need not make a massive leap of faith is assuming people would turn to the usual substances and activities when the search for a coping strategy begins. I am going to have to try something different.
Street drugs and alcohol are non-starters, that's just putting band-aids on a bullet wound. Prescription meds make more sense, but side effects can be severe, dependency is always a possibility, so there is no guarantee of ever being able to leave the medication behind. Prescriptions and sit downs with a professional are the fall back plan. For now, it is time to make an effort at finding some peace with this new understanding, alter some behaviors, and stay focused on the long view. Having open eyes and a patient mind are essential. This is just the first step in a long march toward balance.