Nothing But Blue Skies

The problem...

'Nothing but blue skies do I see', go the words to the song and it’s blue skies that I look for to keep my emotions manageable.

The image I have in mind when I think of blue skies is of the American West and those vast blue skies. I feel happy, joyous, and free when I'm out west and my spirit soars up into that vast blue dome of heaven.

On one trip to Utah, a few years ago, I found myself looking down on a small herd of bison that grazed on the plains below. A young bull, not yet mature, seemed to be proving his courage and testing his independence by grazing out beyond the fringes of the crowd. 

Every minute or so, that youngster would look back over his shoulder to make sure his family was still where he left them. That confirmed, he seemed confident and I’ll bet he felt happy with those blue skies smiling down on him. Still, I noticed that he sometimes would start visibly and swish his rump furiously as though he’d been bitten or stung.

He had help dealing with those irritating insects in the form of a little buffalo bird that was busy pecking around in the fur on his back, shoulders, head, and rump. If that was the complete story then all would have been well, but it wasn’t and it almost never is when happily ever after is involved.

Occasionally, for no reason that I could see, the little bird would become excited about something. Maybe she saw a hawk too high in the sky for me to see or maybe she saw a shadow creeping across the prairie. Whatever she saw, or thought she saw, excited the little bird to the core. She would puff out her chest, open her mouth wide, and utter a high pitched, “skee - reeeeeeeee.” 

Each time the alarm sounded, she leaned forward as though to expel all the air from her lungs. She did this with such force that she almost toppled over onto her face.

I thought this behavior quite cute and even funny, but not so the little bull. He took it big. He thought the sky was falling. 

In one swift move, he would abandon his dream of independence and race back to the protection of the herd. Minutes later, he seemed to think it safe enough to venture back out and the whole sequence of events would be repeated.

In a lot of ways, I’m like that young buffalo. I too have fears that I must face each day to live the life I want. I'm troubled by irksome little bug-a-bears that can irritate and distract like biting insects. Small as these annoyances are, I can become very irritable and build up pressure until I’m leaking at the seams and in danger of exploding.

I also have my own little buffalo bird. It’s my limbic system. Although I have all the tools I need to remain in control of my behavior even in stressful situations, I can easily ignore what’s happening around me until my amygdala, like that little buffalo bird, starts screaming, “The sky is falling! Run for your life.”

The Solution...

There are many definitions for mood disorder but the one I like best is "a change in a person's mood that interferes with everyday life for an extended period of time." 

This is my own definition. I made it up after extensive research on the difference between heavy mood swings and the bonified, certifiable, mood disorder.  

I've come to believe that we live our lives on an emotional spectrum and it isn't a matter of "normal" and "disorder" as much as it is a matter of control.

I know what to do to keep control of my behavior and regulate my mood. I truly am enough to handle anything and everything that comes my way. I have it within my power, when Princess Amy (my amygdala) begins acting up, to say, "Sweeten up, Amy. No need to get the knickers in a wad. I've got this."

My recovery from emotional seizures has been a lengthy one and I would never have gotten started in the first place without the help of people who had suffered as I had and who found ways to overcome some of their own limitations. The techniques that work for me will work for anyone willing to work them. I call them Fierce Qigong. But that's a story for a later post.

* Princess Amy

I stole Amy from Therese Borchard who writes the Beyond Blue blog. Therese calls her amygdala "Amy" and since I think of my Amy as a heartless little tyrant, much like Lewis Carroll's Red Queen, I added the title, "Princess." 

I sometimes call her by different names but no matter what I call her, I know that when I'm feeling anxious and irritable, it's all her fault.

Remember this: Life comes hard and fast. It pays to be ready for anything. Fierce Qigong!