I had my third session with The New Therapist (TNT) yesterday, and we discussed some of the chapters that she asked me to read from the book Full Catastrophe Living by Jon Kabat-Zinn.* And one of the segments talked about a woman, Mary, who felt like this huge truck was always on her heels. When asked what the truck represented, she responded that it was her impulses and cravings, her thoughts and feelings. In other words, that truck was her mind.

Substitute "obsessions and anxieties" for "impulses and cravings," and you pretty much describe me. I have this mental feeling of something always being on my heels, that I'm being chased or followed (not literally, of course). I always feel like I have to keep pushing my brain to stay one step ahead, to anticipate what might go wrong or what might happen next. It's that perpetual stream of "what if" questions that always seem to plague me. It's the fact that my brain never seems to shut off--it's always whizzing away with some thought or idea or worry. These leave me feeling mentally exhausted and frustrated because that truck--my thoughts--were always pushing me and following me.

So I expanded with TNT on this metaphor. I think my exercise habits were part of a way to try and "outrun" this truck. If my normal everyday life was the equivalent of "walking," and it left this truck always on my heels, then maybe if I walked a little faster, the truck would leave me alone. Or I could at least get a bit of peace and quiet. And to some extent, it worked. Part of the purpose of exercise was to exhaust me to the point where I was too tired to worry- or at least too tired to care. The "truck" was off my heels for at least a little bit.

Except the truck always came back, and I started adding more exercise so I could try and find more peace of mind. And yeah- we all know where that brilliant idea led.

Now I'm back to living life with this truck dogging every step I take, every thought I have. Part of what TNT explained is that one of my tasks in recovery is to accept and make peace with the truck. To stop being so intimidated and frightened of it. The goal is less to make the truck go away, or try to convince myself it's not there--no amount of therapy is going to make me into a not-anxious person. The idea is to make the truck less distressing and annoying, to stop fighting the fact that it's following me. To make the truck into more of a butterfly or at least more like my shadow. It's there. I know it's there. I notice it, but it doesn't bother me. That's the difference.

What's your truck? How have you learned to live with it?

*She describes her approach as CBT seasoned with mindfulness techniques. Works for me.