Overwriting Bad Code

This has been a good week, each day of driving better than the one prior as my mind slowly stops inducing anxiety by worrying about anxiety, creating a bad feedback loop of tingling, shortness of breath, lightheadedness and some facial swelling. I'm sure getting used to my awesome new car has played some role, but each day man and machine act more and more as one entity. Chewing gum has helped as has listening to the same Motown or Bryan Adams CD each day. Gradually, the feeling of dread before I drive, of “What if IT happens?” is being replaced by one of adrenaline and excitement.

There are various theories and disorders that suggest chemical or hormonal shifts can account for such incidents, although mine seems to be associative. Certain sections of road where there's no shoulder or parking lot to stop on, or simply where I've had those feelings before can be enough to trigger them. As I did four years ago when I last went through something like this, I'm remembering how to “change the channel”. Repeated experiences of safe journeys without incidents are what my subconscious needs to believe my conscious mind when it says there's nothing to worry about. It's a cognitive shift that's needed, and I think the brain-as-computer metaphor fits nicely. I once read or heard that the brain physically changes and gains new wrinkles as we grow and learn. Some of my wrinkles include the useless fact that a deleted file on a computer isn't really deleted. When you empty the trash, your computer is deleting the first few lines of a file that allow it to be seen. It becomes “invisible” but most of the data is still intact for a while, which is why some programs can recover trashed files. But the danger in your computer no longer “seeing” a deleted file is that it perceives it as free space on your harddrive. Over time, the data will become overwritten.

So, there's no real way to “delete” any of my sensory misperceptions. Things like too much free time at work last week allowed me to surf the web perusing symptoms and, like a hypochondriac, I started thinking I had them. This week was much busier, and instead of sitting and worrying about my health or trading in my old car for a new one, work distracted me and the days went by quickly. True distraction is the solution, and instead of replacing “How am I doing?” with an unconvincing “I'm okay”, it gets replaced by “This is what I have to do at work today” or “When I get home I'm going to watch this show” or “ABC makes me weep for what Michael Jackson became.” All of a sudden, I find myself safely at work(or home if it's the evening) with little more than a mild headache from all the gum chewing.

It's been a slow improvement, though quicker than a few years ago, and I've been hesitant to write about it. Besides not wanting to air my “crazy” so frequently on this forum, I neither want to jinx my good feelings nor remind myself of the bad ones and reinforce them. The first few lines of that code has to remain blank so I can overwrite it again. Thankfully, it's shaping up to be an amazing Spring and I've been collecting a lot of positive sensory data. I've been walking for lunch every day for the last two months, perhaps longer, and I've seen the shift from carrying an umbrella and wearing a heavy coat to leaving my jacket behind and even rolling up my sleeves. I might have another month before it gets too hot to walk without coming back to work drenched in sweat, so I'm enjoying this while it lasts.

Even when it gets too hot, I'm not dismissing the option of sitting in the shade somewhere. Thursday I found a nice park bench by one beach to enjoy my sandwich, and on Friday I had an even better experience. Lately, I've had the notion that the owner of the Dunkin' Donuts near my office doesn't like me. I'm not sure what it is, but the last few times I've gone in he's decided to start sweeping. Once I was at the register and he was sweeping around my feet. Another time, I sat down at the tables in front and he started shoving tables around and sweeping under the one I was sitting at. On Friday, he told me to wait for my flatbread sandwich at the other end of the store. I have no idea what I did. Is it because I've never dropped loose change in plastic box labeled “Generous Tips for Extraordinary Service”? Did I look at the girl behind the register, possibly his daughter or niece the wrong way? Do I look like a caucasian businessman responsible for the war in Iraq?

Maybe I'm reading too much into things and 12:30 or 1 PM are simply the times when he sweeps his franchise, in the exact places I happen to be sitting or standing. Either way, I didn't let “You wait over there and they bring sandwich” get me down on Friday, because I wasn't staying. I headed up a side road to a beach near my Aunt's old house that I probably haven't been to since the ‘80s. Soon, I found a giant shaded deck near a pool, with dozens of picnic tables overlooking the beach, trees, and one or two sunbathers. All I could really hear was the crashing waves, crying seagulls, and chirping of other birds. I could also hear a Spanish woman yelling at a gaggle of mentally challenged people at the other end of the deck, advising them to share their food and telling them how much better it was for them to be outdoors instead of isolated in their rooms back at whichever facility they were from. But mostly, I heard the waves and the birds, and it was paradise.

Bad sounds, sensations and thoughts are slowly being replaced by a lot of good ones. Am I nervous in anticipation of the crowds I might encounter in a few hours on the way to NYComiccon on the same day and at the same time our Pope cruises up 5th Avenue? Constant worry took its toll on me these past few weeks, physically and emotionally, and I'm focused more on my McFerrin mode now. Maybe I'll get a free Skrull Mask at the convention, or a picture of Stan Lee or win some cool prizes or meet a cute girl wearing a costume. There are a lot of unlikely things that might happen; why not wonder about good ones for a change?