It’s All In My Head

By Mimi Linden

The wind howled as we walked along the beach toward massive piles of driftwood. “Look up. It’s gotten closer!” said one of my friends, pointing in the distance. A massive gray cloud covered the sky threatening to dump loads of rain on us at any moment. Turbulent waves made the scene melancholy as they crashed into the shore, not helping with the anxiety from spending too much energy and time with the other campers.

I had been on a two-week YMCA backpacking trip at the Olympic Coast for the last week. I had been to many camps before and knew that this year I definitely didn’t want the stereotypically energetic, always extroverted counselor or group dynamic. At other camps, I had expressed my need for space and alone time, and the counselors had brushed it off, but this time I decided to change my experience.

My stomach churned like the ocean in front of me. I could almost taste the oily pancakes we had for breakfast while I grappled with two distressing thoughts. “Should I follow the rest of the group or take time for myself and maybe face judgment?” It felt like I was being pulled in two separate directions. I needed a break because I was overstimulated by too many people, but I feared judgment because I always needed to connect with and be there for people, so I put myself last. I wouldn’t judge someone for separating from a group, but it felt rude if I did the same. I’ve always been a “people pleaser,” so I try to predict what people want me to do or say, which sometimes causes me to ignore my needs. I worry that taking time for myself will be seen as selfish and that people won’t want to be friends with me. I judge myself a lot, so sometimes I project and think that people will judge me the same way.

While this was going on in my mind, we walked to Toleak Point on white sand covered in seaweed and piles of driftwood. Most of the group rounded the corner of the point to collect drinking and cooking water. Last minute I decided to stay at the point and collect wood for a fire. The beach curved to a point, forming the letter c; waves crashed against scattered rocky islands that rose above the sea. Serenity. A peace never felt before washed over me as I stood and watched the waves. Alone. I was finally alone.

I started collecting firewood. Some of the wood lying on the beach was bigger than me, some only small twigs. I found some huge tree branches and started snapping twigs off them. I held on to one end of the branch, put my foot on the other, and folded the branch until it snapped in half with a loud crack. I did it again and again in a meditative state that relieved all of my anxiety and worries.

Off in the distance, the group walked towards me like loud marching ants. I remembered all my fears again. Panic rose in my throat, filled my head, and compressed my chest as I hurried to make the piles of dry wood as neat as possible, so I could carry them to the campsite. Fear whispered in my ear, “What if they think I am weird for not going with the group? What if the counselors yell at me for being alone?” making my head spin. The clouds seemed more menacing than before as they hovered above my head. My thoughts were crowding around me like a fast-rising tide. Every step the group took sounded like a deep, loud drum in my head. The wind felt like shards of ice as it touched my skin. I looked down at my hands and noticed beads of sweat formed and felt my heart palpitating quickly.

My thoughts circled and repeated the same few phrases. Again. Again. And again.

“Have you been here the whole time?” one of my friends asked. Another friend told the group, “Let's help her carry the wood back.” The whole group cheerfully rushed over to help carry all the driftwood, large and small. I felt relief like a wall of anxiety crashing around me. I had not noticed the tension in my body until this moment. My head was pounding, and my brow was strained. The belief that people would judge me had become so strong that I had made the situation much worse than it was. I had been acting on the primal sense that this was a fight or flight situation, thinking of the worst possible scenarios but not really thinking through them. My brain had been running laps around my head, catastrophizing a situation that wasn’t a catastrophe. Taking a moment to breathe, I realized that the worst-case scenario I had invented was fictional and only hurting me. I understood in that instant that taking time for myself isn’t selfish and that friends don’t judge friends for doing that. The invention of what people might be thinking about me was all in my head and does not have to control my actions.