Stress Relief, One Stroke at a Time

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Notebook and Pen

Zentangle, an art of meditation

According the American Psychological Association, one third of Americans suffer from extreme stress, while almost half report increased stress compared to five years ago. That study was well before COVID-19 became a part of our lives; they warn that there has been an increase since the beginning of the pandemic.

There are many ways of dealing with stress, and I’d like to talk today about one that I have found particularly useful: Zentangle.

This topic may seem trendy—and a trend that passed a few years ago even—but it is worth considering. I came upon it just as the trend was fading, making way for adult coloring books. I’ll touch on coloring books in a future post, but for now let’s focus on drawing simple lines, repeating those lines to create patterns.

Where did Zentangle Come From?

Zentangle was started by a couple, Rick and Maria. Maria was a botanical illustrator and a calligrapher; Rick had been practicing meditation for years. One fateful day as Maria was working on a large letter, adding a pattern to the background, Rick asked her something. I believe he had to ask her a couple of times in order to get her attention. She was in the zone. As she described it to Rick, she felt “selflessness, timelessness and effortlessness”. He immediately recognized that as meditation.

What is Zentangle?

Zentangle is an art form in which you repeat basic line shapes to create patterns. In the classic style, it is done on 3.5-inch square ‘tiles’ which are a high quality, almost cardstock paper. You begin by making a light frame around the edge of the tile in pencil; this is the space you work in. You then use the pencil to draw lines to divide the space into three or four sections. After that you use a quality, fine-point drawing pen, such as Micron #1, and in each space you create one of the basic patterns by repeating strokes and lines.

A Pile of Tangles

Why do we need Zentangle?

Kylie Fuller wrote an interesting article regarding a link between stress and dementia/Alzheimer’s disease. There have been countless studies done relating stress to high blood pressure and heart disease, both of which can shorten a person’s life span, not to mention the diminished quality of life when the person is overwhelmed with it. Add to that the prospect of stress bringing on dementia prematurely and it is clear that there is a need for something to aid in stress management.

Zentangle is a good answer to that because it is readily available. You can find books on how to do it, or you can go directly to the source at the Zentangle web page. Supplies are also easy to get. If you don’t have the tiles and nice pens, you can use any writing instrument (hopefully one with a fine point) and any piece of paper. The main part is the practice of repeating the lines “one stroke a time”.

There have been many scholarly articles written about the connection between Zentangle and mental health. In every one that I’ve looked at the answer comes out the same in at least one aspect: Zentangle helps.

How does Zentangle work?

When you follow the established instructions, you begin and end each session with appreciation. You hold the paper at the beginning, touch the surface and feel the quality. You hold the pen and consider the quality of the instrument you are using. Basically, you are putting yourself into a state of gratitude, which puts you in the flow with Source Energy, which some call by the name of God.

You decide which pattern to draw in each of the sections. You begin by drawing the first line, then continuing, usually drawing the same sort of line, using the same stroke. You do not rush. You focus, not on the overall picture, but on the one stroke you are drawing. You make deliberate lines. Focus on beginning and ending the line, rather than just sketching them out as you might do when writing. This is where the meditation happens. As each pattern is abstract—there is no up or down, so you are constantly rotating the tile.

Tangled Divider

One of the most important things to remember: There are no mistakes.

Let me say that again. There are no mistakes. This is a practice, not an exhibition. If something is drawn not as planned, you either move on, or you incorporate it into your design. Dismiss the urge to curse, or erase, or to be upset in any way.

Furthermore, do not get upset with yourself if you do become irritated. As with anything you practice, you will improve over time. That means your lines will become better, your mind will become more calm and you will more easily allow unintended strokes to become a part of the process, rather than a source of irritation.

What are the results of studies?

In studies that I have read, people were asked to grade themselves on their stress levels before and after a Zentangle session. In charts, the stress levels visibly decrease.

One interesting point is the question of participants’ attention to mental health. For the most part, people are aware of the importance of mental health on their lives. And, for the most part, people do try to take time regularly to address it. The ones who rated themselves the highest on the stress level tended to state that they did not take time to work on mental health.

Feedback included comments regarding the community aspect of it. Working with others and looking at the work others did helped to reduce the anxiety that would naturally creep in when doing something labeled as “Art”.

Myself, I’ve done it both ways. The majority of the time I’ve spent tangling has been alone, with music playing. For me that has had the greater effect on my stress level. I’ve been an artist for years, so perhaps I’ve become accustomed to the anxiety that a blank page causes. However, I have worked with a creative group, and had good results, beyond just stress-relief. Working together, we have grown and pushed ourselves to take on bigger projects, with a good amount of success.

More traditional meditation—sitting quietly, focusing on your breath, relieving your mind of any thoughts—is helpful to your life overall and you will never hear me say anything against meditation. It is also a practice, and one that can be difficult to master. From my perspective Zentangle is more accessible. Either as a community or alone, drawing lines on a piece of paper is a lot more natural than trying to have no thoughts for five to twenty minutes at a time.

Most people struggle with stress to some extent, and we can all use some time to slow down, pay attention to, and take care of, our minds. I came to Zentangle with debilitating anxiety—more urgency than anything I’ve ever felt before. I wonder how things would have played out had I begun earlier to take care of my mental health. I could have kept things from getting out of control.

A person must have the presence of mind to realize that their stress needs to be addressed, so it’s a good idea to do calming exercises regularly. Be it with Zentangle, mandalas, meditation, or anything else you can find, you will benefit from time you spend taking care of your mental health.

Thank you for reading.

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References:

Stress a Major Health Problem in The U.S., 2007, American Psychological Association, Viewed 08 October 2020, https://www.apa.org/news/press/releases/2007/10/stress

Stress in America ™, 2020, 2020, American Psychological Association, Viewed 08 October 2020, https://www.apa.org/news/press/releases/stress/2020/report

Immel, R 2020, Zentangles for Mental Health Awareness, viewed 9 August 2020, https://scholarworks.bgsu.edu/honorsprojects/491

Another Step Forward

A few years ago my partner and I went to New Orleans. I had never been, and I was worried that a hurricane might come along and wash it away completely before I got a chance to see it. I had talked about visiting New Orleans before, and the response was always, "We need to do that some day. We need to plan it." And then another few years would go by. So one day I decided that we were going and I began making plans on my own, with my sister's encouragement and a confused partner who kept trying to change the plan, or justify the plan by making it into a business trip, or find a cheaper hotel. But, that's why I took on the planning myself, to make sure it was a trip that I wanted to take. We stayed in a Bed & Breakfast on St. Charles Avenue, which was a converted mansion. We took a tour of the Garden District, the high point of which was the cemetery. (I love the way they handle above-ground graves. We could totally do that here in Texas.) We partied on Bourbon Street and visited art galleries and ate food, ate beignets and drank coffee. And ate some more.

I had taken a week off for the occasion. We left for NOLA on Saturday and stayed three nights. When we got back I was stoked. I was going to start a new life as an artist; I was going to leave my soul-sucking job. I was going to be different; I was going to be a new kind of fabulous with mad scientist hair. And mad scientist eyebrows.

I was going for it.

By the end of my week off I had talked myself down from my high. I had responsibilities and my art wasn't all that, and I'm too old to start something so drastic, and the way my friends sell art in festivals is tedious. So, I continued my job. (In all fairness, I learned a lot at that job, and stretched my limits in many ways. But it was still a soul-sucking job.)

Here I am over 10 years later looking back and wondering, Why? Why couldn't I have ridden that wave? Why did I talk myself out of it? Now I think about the fact that we all have only one body, which doesn't last much more than a hundred years, we live on a tiny planet in a solar system of nine planets (you're still a planet in my book, Pluto) that's in a ginormous galaxy, which itself is in an unfathomably large universe. Way back down here on this microscopic little spec called Earth, my plans to have fun making art, making people happy and making a living was irresponsible? To whom? I clearly had some ideas about life ingrained into my head and I don't even know where they came from. Perhaps a lack of security led me to cling to mediocrity. My job was not one that took me traveling and eating out with clients and truth be told, it barely had any security whatsoever. (One year about 5 people were fired in a matter of a month, and that was just from my department.) I was clinging desperately, hoping to die with enough money to buy food.

Now, I'm looking around again. I have a different job now, one that I briefly allowed to be a soul-sucker, but which I eventually got a handle on. It is not, however, a career—not for me anyway. I have written a novelette that I believe in, and I'm oh-so-close to being finished with a second writing of a mystery novel. I have a circle of friends who are creatives and I have paint and canvasses and ideas. I have lots of ideas for my art and for my partner's art and there is a spark inside of me that is growing into a flame again.

I left my previous job and came to this one with the express intent of writing and making money with art. Scary stuff, leaving behind secure mediocrity, looking for something more. Some people didn't believe in me and I have a lifetime of being a people-pleaser that I'm working against. "Oh, you don't think I can seriously make money with my art? You're probably right. I'm sorry." That’s more or less how it went down. And those people weren’t even invested in my life, just random people not believing in me. But, I’m back and it didn’t take me ten years this time. I will make art. I will be published. I will make money at it. I WILL be fabulous.

One other thing I'll say before I sign off. If you have depression or anxiety, deal with it. Go now. Stop what you're doing and find professionals who can help. The first person you find may not click with you, so you might have to look more than once for help. Do not give up. I was in the throws of depression years ago and I had this tiny little part of my mind that knew that there was a life that wasn't this dark. I call it a mustard seed of faith. There were times when I couldn't feel that other life; I couldn't even remember what it was like to want to live. But, that faith kept me going. I didn't know what a happy life would look like, but I did know that such a thing existed and I would have to keep working at it. So, if you are suffering from this, know that a life exists that is worth living, even if you can't feel it at the moment, even if you can't believe it at the moment. Know that it's true, even when you can't believe it. That's faith.

Once More Along the Path

Allow me one more entry in this vein, and then I’ll move on to happier things.

I sit, and write while I can sit. I'm not feeling my best; stomach cramps and other symptoms of a stomach bug are bothering me these last couple of days. It's maybe a good time to sit with myself. Usually when I'm sick I sleep through it, which is fabulous. Sleeping for 36 hours straight is a dream come true. Yesterday I slept until noon, then got up and putzed around. Today I got up around 8 AM, so there's no avoiding myself or my life.

Last November I challenged a couple of friend of mine. Barry has been an artist (a jeweler) for 35 years, and he is searching for a new direction for his art. Our friend, Tamara, is a graphic designer, but when we met almost 30 years ago we were both aspiring artists. It's our bond. She has always, ALWAYS, been naturally more talented than I. I make up for some of it through persistence. Barry wants to take his art in a new direction, Tamara wants to take her life in a new direction—as do I. So, I suggested that the three of us together work on an exhibition of artwork. Barry suggested the Elgin Art Studio Tour in May 2019.

At first we sat together with 15-30 minute sessions, then we critiqued. We talked about what we wanted to accomplish, gave suggestions about where we thought each other's work was going. We worked. Tamara came to the studio regularly and it seemed like this was going to be taken seriously. We took field trips to art supply stores and came back to work on our stuff. I live here and am able to work during the week. Tamara has come during the week, but it's mostly weekends for her. Barry works every single evening of his life on jewelry.

This has to be taken in context of my life. My previous post about beginning on the path is not separate from this art that I'm working on. It's all connected, especially in my mind. My thoughts about what I wanted to accomplish were very much addressing the demons that haunt my mind. I've addressed these demons off and on for most of my life; it appears that it's going to be a lifelong battle.

Sometimes I feel that perhaps there is a problem when we keep things together. This made itself apparent in my last job. We all worked very hard (and learned so very much.) But, perhaps our working to keep things together, however tenuously, was enabling the company to continue to put off investing in the necessary infrastructure changes. While we worked (“Did whatever it took”) to help the company fulfills its promises, the company kept promising more and more until the balance shifted and we couldn't keep up. Most of us felt, though, that we HAD to keep up, that we HAD to make it work, and as we lost more ground, our stress increased to dangerous levels.

I think about that experience in my current job, where I keep a more firm stance on what I can and cannot do. And major changes are happening because things are not working as they should. Departments are being created and facilities are being established to handle the mountain of paperwork that we work with, to eliminate the problem of lost documents that has plagued us. The phone center is being beefed up and redesigned to allow the processing teams time to do our jobs, rather than spending our days answering calls. Things are changing because problems have been brought to light. This, as opposed to us working furiously against time and logic, blaming and flagellating ourselves to "make it work".

But, what of myself? I look at the years that I've wandered through life making choices that I knew were wrong and that I would one day pay for. But, I have not ever been homeless. I've not ever, really, been hungry. I've always taken a loan from my future self to pay for sloth and gluttony in the present, knowing that at one point it would all catch up with me. I've always managed to keep it together just enough to get by. What's catching up to me now is anxiety—paralyzing anxiety that has an affect on my daily life. I feel I'm losing my grip. Some days, for no reason I can put my finger on, I can't get out of bed. I literally get sick and tremble under the covers. It's coming for me.

A few years ago a person very close to me surprised me. I got a call that there was a problem, a possible drinking problem that I was clueless about. Before the evening was over, that person had been arrested for DUI, and a couple of weeks later was in a rehab facility. At the time I was so overwhelmed and under so much stress that the idea of going into rehab seemed like a vacation. But, I had managed to keep it together enough to put that off, for the time, anyway. This person continues to battle demons and alcohol, two years later. Nobody said that it would be easy or that change would happen overnight. And I have moved on to a better place of employment and a better place in my life.

Was holding it together really the best thing for me? Its' all catching up to me anyway, have I just been putting off the inevitable? I wonder about that as I navigate a job that is going through an incredibly stressful transition, and as I work on the paintings and mandalas that will be a part what I present in the exhibition. As I barrel toward a nervous breakdown, I listen to Chill-out Lounge Music and imagine that I am on a beach, in a cabana listening to the sound of the waves and watching happy people enjoy their vacations. I wonder what my therapist would say about this. Maybe, after all, it is time to finally fall apart.

The Struggle Is Real

Sometimes it may not seem like it, but the struggle is real. I (finally) saw my doctor again today… after he cut off my prescription. That’s kind of clingy, don’t you think? I’ve tried to tell him that I need space and then he goes and does that. When I called his nurse to make the appointment she let me know that they had called and left me four voicemails, and that they had put a note on the most recent (and final) refill with my pharmacy stating that I had to make (and keep – they know my tricks) an appointment with my doctor before they would refill it again. So what? So, there’s a law that specifies that he can’t continue to refill my prescriptions without a check up every once in a while. Big deal. I was just there 14 months ago, but whatever.

I can’t say that I was altogether pleased with the blood work numbers. For the most part they were excellent. I’m not diabetic, I’m far from anemic and almost everything looked just like it was supposed to look. I had some valid questions. Why do I tend to black out when I’m laughing very, very hard? Based on those numbers, should I be having a nervous breakdown? I had thought that these things were related to being overly tired, and further thought that being overly tired had to do with my blood not being right (like anemia or something), and his presentation showing most of my numbers right where they should be – defying all logic, considering my weight and the amount of exercise I get – blew a gaping hole in my theory.

He explained a possible reason for the laughing thing and said that if it becomes a pattern then we’ll look at it again. Problem is, I don’t laugh THAT hard all that often. You know, the kind of laugh that builds and builds until you get to the point where you can’t breathe? We’ve all been there. I’ve been there more times than I can remember in my 48 years on this earth, but only recently did I actually feel that I was going to lose consciousness. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t a cause for alarm, because I find it a little alarming. But then, I’ve never been 48 years old before last year.

He also confirmed, with a finger pointing to the charts, that based on those numbers I was not allowed to have a nervous breakdown from blood problems. Then, I had to tell him about last Tuesday. Tuesday was also a little alarming for me, and for my dear brother and sister who I chatted/texted with all afternoon. It was kind of a dark day in general. It began with my inability to get out of bed, and literally pulling the covers over my head. I’m as dramatic as the next guy, but I’ve never actually done that before, not in real life. I described for him a few more of the thoughts and feelings I had that morning. He labeled it an anxiety attack, which sounds just about right.

It could have to do with the prolonged stress at my job. We've launched a new software that didn’t have quite all of the bugs worked out and I’ve gotten a few phone calls. My voice mail box fills up with 50-60 voicemails by around 2 PM. That doesn’t count the emails, or the people who walk over to my desk because they have somebody on the phone. I’ll be talking to one of these people from other departments, or to one of my staff, and the phone is ringing. I glance at it and see that two numbers are calling at the same time. When the ringing goes on for what seems too long, I glance again to see that, without missing a beat, another call has come in so that three phone calls have come in in the span of about 10 seconds. While I’m talking to the person at my desk there might be four seconds in which the phone does not ring. And this goes on… All. Day. Long. Every day. I visualize myself with tears welling up in my eyes while trying to focus on what the person I’m talking to is asking. This is the end of the first month since the new software launched and it has been a little stressful. If I take anxiety medicine I get very sleepy as soon as I get home from work and am not worth much, though it does help me get through the day without completely losing my head. I’m reminded of the phrase that was used in the 80’s and 90’s for people who randomly walked into places and began shooting people. We’d say that the person had ‘Gone Postal’. And we said that because for a while, they tended to be people who worked for the United States Postal Service. I can relate to those poor souls a little more than I would like. I’m nowhere near arming myself, but I came close to raising my voice at a coworker the other day. That seems almost ludicrous when I write it, but I do EVERYTHING I can at work to maintain a positive attitude to keep morale up so that we can get through this. And we will. It’s just a little difficult at the moment.

So my doctor said that with the effects of the one tiny problem in my blood work that we are addressing with this prescription that ran out, added to the subtle stress that I’ve been enduring at a job that I otherwise love, he thinks the combined effects, along with some other possible contributing factors, could easily cause an anxiety attack, especially if the person were prone to that sort of thing anyway. (I do have a history of depression, so there’s that.) After some very serious questions asked in as light a tone as he legally could (specifically “Are you thinking of hurting yourself right now”), he said I was allowed to leave after setting down the new rules of how often we are to meet going forward. (The answer, in case you were wondering, was ‘No. I am not thinking of hurting myself, nor was I on Tuesday.’)

I was at the nurse’s desk and the doctor was giving her instructions for future blood orders for me when Barry texted me, “Did your doctor get after you?” I showed the text to my doctor and the nurse and we all laughed. He said that he wasn’t very good at that, but I assured him that he was quite stern with me. The nurse agreed that he could be when needed.

After last Tuesday I truly thought that I needed to find a way to make an appointment with a psychiatrist. Today’s visit has put my mind to rest a little. So, back to work tomorrow with my new prescription, my body getting back to where it needs to be and a closer eye on the anxiety. The doctor (who is a specialist) also told me I have to go see my General Practitioner. (These people!) If the anxiety doesn’t calm down by then I’ll discuss it with him as well. I love my GP more than life itself and I trust he’ll have a good suggestion. At work I’m beginning to see a light at the end of the tunnel, so hopefully this will all soon be something that we laugh about, that we laugh so hard about that we all pass out.

We Need a Little Christmas

I'm feeling anxiety and stress, so I'm trying to listen to Christmas music – happy, peaceful music about peace on earth and goodwill towards man. But it's 83° outside and it's not the same. I live in Central Texas. I wish the weather would cooperate, but considering the rest of this year I really have no reason to expect it. As I drove away from work this afternoon I was listening to The Carpenters' Old Fashioned Christmas, with the choral parts and the instruments... and when Karen's deep voice came in, on the song Home for the Holidays, I had the air conditioner in the car blowing cold air on me full blast, and I could almost make myself believe that it was Christmas season. I could almost feel my stress level reduce. When I reached the song Little Altar Boy, though, I had arrived at the store and I had to get out into the real world and it ruined it.

Can somebody please send me some cold temperatures? For I've grown a little leaner, Grown a little colder, Grown a little sadder, Grown a little older, and I need a little angel sitting on my shoulder. I need a little Christmas now.