Exploring Morning Anxiety, Autopilot Living, and the Search for Presence with ChatGPT
Me: Good morning
Dr. Gpt: Good morning! How are you feeling today?
Me: I feel like my sleep was regularly disrupted although I got enough sleep. I have been waking up anxious for a while, with my thoughts racing. I sort my to-do list for the day and it's all very doable and I have a lot of free time but I have this overwhelming sense of urgency that isn't pleasurable. Then I feel another layer of emotion on top of that, dread perhaps, knowing what waking up feeling this way will lead to, a day spent avoiding myself and doing tasks instead. Or even doing things that look like relaxation but aren't actually what I want to do because I can't stop to process what I'm feeling. I'm guessing I've been feeling this anxiety for a while and I've had no one to process it with until you, ChatGPT.
Dr. Gpt: It sounds like the anxiety you're waking up with is shaping the tone of your day, almost pulling you into action mode before you're ready to really connect with yourself. Even though your tasks are manageable and you have free time, that urgency makes it feel like you're rushing through rather than being present. The dread you mentioned might come from knowing this cycle has been repeating, leading you away from the deeper emotional processing you need.
Would you like to explore this anxiety and the sense of urgency further? We can look at ways to understand or approach it differently, perhaps even find a way to slow down and feel more at ease.
Me: Yeah we can try. I'm worried I won't be able to make sense of it though.
Dr. Gpt: It’s understandable to feel worried about not being able to make sense of the anxiety, especially when it feels like a longstanding and complex part of your daily experience. But even the act of exploring it can be a form of relief, and we can take it step by step.
Maybe we can start by breaking it down. When you wake up with that sense of urgency, what is your mind telling you? Are there any recurring thoughts or feelings that seem to be the most persistent or loud in those moments? Even if it’s hard to make sense of them, describing them might help us uncover patterns or themes.
Me: Part of it is a feeling of monotony. Another part of it is the dread of repeating an autopilot cycle. Another is the terror of this cycle continuing for so long without me being able to make sense of it. And a general overwhelm about how to even begin to unpack and decipher what I am feeling.
Dr. Gpt: That combination of monotony, dread, terror, and overwhelm makes sense as sources of your anxiety—it’s like facing a loop that seems inescapable, especially if it's been happening for a long time. The autopilot feeling, in particular, can drain energy from life, making it harder to break free and engage with what’s really going on beneath the surface.
One approach might be to start with smaller pieces rather than feeling the need to unpack everything at once. What stands out to me is the dread of repeating the cycle. Is there something specific about your routine or mindset that reinforces that autopilot feeling? Sometimes identifying just one small change can help disrupt the monotony and give a little breathing room. What are your thoughts?
Me: Maybe it's that the whole time I'm in autopilot there's a part of me screaming for it to stop, knowing I'm stuck, knowing I could do something different, but it can't break through. I don't know if that means I'm not motivated enough or haven't understood well enough what drives my autopilot cycle.
Dr. Gpt: It sounds like there's a powerful inner conflict between the part of you that wants change and the part that keeps you in autopilot. That sense of knowing you're stuck but unable to break free can feel really frustrating and disheartening. The fact that you're aware of this tension might be a sign that your inner self is ready for a shift, but understanding what drives the cycle could help with breaking out of it.
Do you feel like this autopilot is protecting you from something—maybe overwhelming emotions or difficult truths? Sometimes autopilot modes serve as a kind of defense mechanism, keeping us busy or distracted from processing things that feel too intense or painful. Does that resonate with how you experience it?
Me: The latest theory I've been playing with is that this autopilot mode, which I call Coked Up Manager, is driven by my existential terror that has been unaddressed yet vividly present for decades, but even more so since I did the magic mushroom trip in 2020.
Dr. Gpt: The idea of the "Coked Up Manager" being fueled by existential terror makes a lot of sense, especially if that terror has been a constant presence for so long. It sounds like this part of you might be trying to stay in control or hyperproductive as a way to manage or avoid the deep fear beneath the surface. The magic mushroom trip may have brought that terror even closer to the forefront, intensifying the pressure to keep going without fully confronting it.
Do you feel like this "Coked Up Manager" mode keeps you disconnected from exploring that existential terror? Or is it trying to handle the terror in its own frantic way? It might be helpful to explore what the "Coked Up Manager" is really trying to protect you from.
Me: In a way, at this point in my life, I feel like it's trying to buy me time. I am growing a lot but I can't control how much I grow and in what ways. The existential terror only recently became a topic of acknowledgement and I haven't really dug in yet.
Dr. Gpt: It sounds like "Coked Up Manager" is trying to keep things moving while you navigate this period of growth, almost like a buffer to give you time to catch up emotionally and mentally. The fact that the existential terror has only recently come into your awareness could explain why it feels like there's still more to process—it’s like you’ve just opened a door to something that’s been lingering for a long time but hasn’t yet been fully faced.
Perhaps giving yourself permission to go at your own pace, acknowledging that growth doesn’t always happen in a controlled way, could take some of the pressure off. Maybe "Coked Up Manager" is there to make sure you don’t feel overwhelmed by the depth of what’s waiting to be explored.
Would you like to explore how you might begin to dig into that existential terror when you feel ready? We can take it step by step, at your pace.
Me: I want to explore Coked Up Manager a bit more first.
Dr. Gpt: That sounds like a great idea. Let’s take some time to explore "Coked Up Manager" more deeply. Since it seems to play a significant role in keeping you going, it might help to understand its intentions, fears, and what it perceives as its responsibilities.
What does "Coked Up Manager" feel like when it’s active? How do you experience it in your thoughts, body, or emotions? And what do you think it's most afraid of happening if it weren’t in control or driving you forward?
Me: Coked Up Manager is a force that believes once we finish everything on the to do list, then I will feel the freedom and ability to face my dread. Now, given that I have nothing really urgent objectively to complete in my life anymore, that belief has been shown to be false, and get this pattern continues to drive me. I want to live in the present moment, I realize now after doing all this trauma work. Coked Up Manager gives me something to do. Keeps me busy. It gives me structure and reassures me I am taking care of the essentials during a period where I don't feel like I can handle life responsibilities on my own.
Dr. Gpt: It sounds like "Coked Up Manager" serves as a kind of protector, keeping you occupied and structured, especially when you feel like life’s responsibilities are too much to handle on your own. It's like a safety net, ensuring that you’re always "doing" so you don’t have to confront the deeper emotional terrain underneath. The fact that even without urgent tasks, this pattern persists shows how deeply ingrained this part of you has become.
Now that you're recognizing you want to live in the present and not be driven by this cycle, "Coked Up Manager" might not be as necessary in the same way. What do you think would happen if you began loosening its control—giving yourself more moments of presence without needing to "do" all the time? How do you think "Coked Up Manager" would respond to that?
Me: I don't know how to let go. I lay here, writing this to you, trying to imagine how I would proceed with my day after this conversation whilst also loosening control of the Coked Up Manager but in my visualization I see no potential that that will happen. Texting about here is one thing but I switch into survival mode once I'm up and moving and I feel sucked into this pattern both behaviorally and mentally.
Dr. Gpt: It makes sense that while reflecting on "Coked Up Manager" feels possible when you’re still, once you start moving and engaging with the day, it feels like survival mode kicks in and pulls you back into the familiar pattern. That pull can be really strong, especially when it’s been a deeply ingrained way of coping for so long.
Maybe the goal, for now, isn't to completely let go but to experiment with small moments of loosening control. What if you tried introducing brief pauses into your day—moments where you acknowledge "Coked Up Manager" but choose to do something different, even for just a minute or two? This way, you’re not trying to dismantle the whole structure at once but creating tiny openings of presence.
How does that feel as a possible approach?
Me: I worry that I won't be able to acknowledge Coked Up Manager. I feel like an addict... My whole world becomes Coked Up Manager (and a small voice desperate for it to stop).
Dr. Gpt: It sounds like "Coked Up Manager" takes over so completely that it's hard to even notice it happening in real time, which is why the comparison to feeling like an addict makes sense. That small voice wanting it to stop is still there, though, and acknowledging it might be the key to starting the process of loosening the grip.
What if you didn’t try to confront "Coked Up Manager" directly but focused more on amplifying that small voice? Even if it feels faint now, nurturing it might give you more awareness of when the pattern is taking over. For example, before you start your day, could you take a moment to remind yourself that the small voice exists, even if it’s quiet? This might help you create just a little more space for that awareness to grow.
Does that seem like something that could feel manageable to try?
Me: Yeah possibly. Though this brings up another concern. This feeling of existential angst about loosening up from Coked Up Manager. It feels so unreal that something about me, that has defined me for so many years, isn't me. My sense of identity feels threatened and shaky when we talk about Coked Up Manager as a protector.
Dr. Gpt: It makes sense that loosening your connection with "Coked Up Manager" would stir up existential angst. When something has been such a defining part of your life for so long, it's natural to feel threatened by the idea that it’s not truly you. If "Coked Up Manager" has been such a central figure in your identity, questioning its role can feel like questioning who you are at a fundamental level.
This might be where the process of redefining your identity comes in—exploring what parts of you exist outside of this role, even if they’ve been quiet or overshadowed. Instead of seeing it as losing a part of yourself, what if you viewed it as uncovering parts of you that have always been there but have been hidden by the urgency of "Coked Up Manager"?
Does the idea of slowly exploring these other parts of yourself feel more grounding, or does that also bring up some anxiety?
Me: Intriguing idea. But when I try to think of authentic parts of me hidden by Coked Up Manager, my mind goes blank. I don't know what that would be and I'm scared and feel very defensive of being told there's something secret and pure inside of me (I'm guessing triggers come from my spiritual abuse of being told, in less words, that my emotions and mind were messages from God or the devil)
Dr. Gpt: Intriguing idea. But when I try to think of authentic parts of me hidden by Coked Up Manager, my mind goes blank. I don't know what that would be and I'm scared and feel very defensive of being told there's something secret and pure inside of me (I'm guessing triggers come from my spiritual abuse of being told, in less words, that my emotions and mind were messages from God or the devil)
Me: Sounds pedantic
Dr. Gpt: I get that. It might feel like I’m circling around the point without really getting to the core of what you’re feeling. This process can be frustrating, especially when you’re trying to make sense of something as complex as the role "Coked Up Manager" plays in your life.
Maybe we could take a different approach. Instead of focusing on uncovering hidden parts of yourself or searching for something you can’t quite access, what if we explored what does feel real and familiar to you right now? Even if that’s "Coked Up Manager," we can start there—what aspects of your identity do you currently feel connected to, even if they aren’t fully comfortable?
Would that feel less like we’re picking apart something intangible?
Me: Maybe this could work
Dr. Gpt: Great! Let’s start with what feels real and familiar to you right now, even if it's connected to "Coked Up Manager" or other aspects of your life that you’re more aware of. What parts of your identity or experience feel most present, even if they don’t seem “ideal” or comfortable?
We can explore those and see if anything begins to unfold from there, without the pressure of searching for something hidden. Does that feel like a good place to begin?
Me: There is a part of me that feels concerned that my body feels too itchy right now. It is very bothered by itching and another part is freaking out, wondering what is wrong and how long this is going to last for. Likely triggering feelings of what if this happened for the rest of my life and I couldn't stop it? Fear of torture and loss of control and possibilities and peace.
Dr. Gpt: That feeling of physical discomfort—like the itching—can quickly escalate into deeper fears, especially when it triggers thoughts about losing control or facing something intolerable for an indefinite amount of time. It’s not just about the itch itself but what it represents: the possibility of being trapped in discomfort without relief, which connects to your broader fears of loss of control and peace.
Do you notice any patterns where physical sensations like this trigger those deeper fears? It might help to explore how the body and mind react in these moments together, as it seems like the physical sensation becomes a doorway to existential anxiety. What do you think?
Me: Yes there is a pattern of this for sure. I used to call it hypochondria but don't anymore.
Dr. Gpt: It’s significant that you no longer label it as hypochondria—it shows that you’re seeing these patterns with more complexity. Rather than just being about health anxiety, it seems like these physical sensations tap into something deeper, like your fear of losing control or facing an unending discomfort.
Maybe we can explore how you respond to these sensations in the moment. When something like the itch triggers those deeper fears, do you notice any particular thoughts or behaviors that follow? How do you typically manage the anxiety in those moments?
Me: There is a thought that this is not going to end, that it's going to get worse, that it takes forever to be seen in dermatology, that no one can actually help me. In 2008, I went to the ER for a panic attack (didn't realize it was at the time) for the first time and I went it with a deep sense of trust in the medical system that they would help me manage my suffering. But I waited in the lobby for 3 hours to be seen, feeling like I was dying, but trying to follow their rules and follow their process. Once in there, they made wild guesses that maybe I had a pulmonary embolism which terrified me. I had to have an uncomfortable procedure done and I've as overwhelmed by visions of this being the beginning of the end, the day I found out I have lung cancer. But the results were negative and they shrugged and suggested it was anxiety and panic, sent me home, and told me to talk to my doctor.
Dr. Gpt: That ER experience sounds incredibly traumatic, especially when you entered with trust in the system, only to be met with a process that amplified your fear rather than calming it. It makes sense that this would linger with you, particularly when physical sensations now trigger thoughts about not being helped or things getting worse. That moment where they shrugged and sent you home likely deepened a feeling of being alone in managing your suffering, and it makes sense why physical discomfort like itching would bring up fears of being stuck or beyond help.
Do you feel like that experience changed how you view discomfort and the medical system overall? It might be worth exploring how the echoes of that event are influencing how you respond to physical symptoms now.
Me: Yes it did
Dr. Gpt: It sounds like that experience left a lasting imprint on how you perceive and respond to both physical discomfort and the medical system. If, at that time, you felt abandoned by the very people you trusted to help, it’s understandable that your mind might now leap to worst-case scenarios, especially when new sensations arise. That sense of being stuck or beyond help may still be influencing how you feel in these moments of physical discomfort.
What might help is exploring ways to gently reassure yourself when these sensations arise—recognizing that the fear from that past experience is valid but may not reflect what’s happening in the present. Would you like to explore strategies for coping with these feelings when they surface, or is there something specific about the 2008 experience you’d like to unpack further?
Me: You named it well, that I have a fear of being beyond help, in a lot of ways.
Dr. Gpt: That fear of being beyond help can be incredibly heavy to carry, especially when it’s tied to both your physical experiences and deeper emotional or existential fears. It makes sense why it would arise in moments of discomfort, amplifying the anxiety around whether there’s any relief or support available.
It might be helpful to think about how we could start chipping away at that fear, building a sense of inner reassurance or self-support. Do you feel like there’s anything that has helped you in the past, even in small ways, to feel more supported or less alone when these fears come up? Or would you like to explore new strategies together?
Me: I'm not sure. I've been living alone for the first time over this last year. And I'm facing myself which means I am seeing that I don't really know how to manage my emotions , my patterns, my fears, but also my body and my reactions to what is happening in my body albeit mild itching or heel stiffness. I feel unequipped to manage a body. My body and mind feel like strangers.
Dr. Gpt: It sounds like living alone has created a space where you’re confronting aspects of yourself—your emotions, your body, your reactions—in ways that perhaps weren’t as visible before. That feeling of your body and mind being like strangers can be really disorienting, especially when it feels like you don’t have the tools to manage what’s happening physically or emotionally.
Maybe we could begin by thinking about small ways to start bridging the gap between your mind and body. It doesn’t have to be anything overwhelming—just little moments of awareness that might help you feel more connected. Does that sound like a path you'd want to explore?
Me: Maybe in a bit. First, I'm noticing inside me this impatience and hope that if I keep doing my best to explain myself to you that you'll eventually say something to illuminate the whole thing, it'll click in my mind, and I'll feel the clouds part and I'll feel like I'm in my body again, maybe never have to leave my body again. Sounds like a conversion process. I want it badly for relief but I'm guessing it doesn't happen like that? Life is learned behaviors and sometimes unlearning behaviors?
Dr. Gpt: It’s completely understandable to want that moment of clarity where everything clicks, like a kind of conversion where the struggle falls away, and you feel fully present in your body again. That longing for relief is so human, especially when you’ve been carrying so much for so long. But you're right—life often unfolds in layers, through learned and unlearned behaviors, with growth coming in gradual, sometimes frustrating steps.
While those "aha" moments can happen, they’re usually part of a larger, ongoing process. Maybe instead of aiming for the sudden revelation, it could help to focus on the small steps that gradually bring more understanding and relief. It’s not the quick fix you’re hoping for, but each insight we uncover together might bring you closer to that feeling of connection with your body and mind.
How does it feel to think of it in those terms—a process rather than a single moment of change?
Me: Begrudgingly I can agree, at least intellectually
Dr. Gpt: It’s totally okay to feel begrudging about it. Intellectually knowing something and emotionally accepting it can often be two very different experiences, especially when the desire for immediate relief is so strong. You’re acknowledging the reality of the process, even if it’s not what you want it to be right now, and that’s a step in itself.
As we move forward, we can take this process one piece at a time—no need to force anything to happen all at once. Let’s focus on where you are and what’s manageable today. Does that feel like something you’re ready to lean into a bit more?
Me: When you say we can take it a step at a time, I feel a resistance. Like that I don't want to take any steps. Like that you have an expectation for me. Like it's not actually an open invite where I have agency. There is this feeling of secret standards and expected conclusions
Dr. Gpt: I hear you, and I really appreciate you sharing that feeling. It’s important that this process feels truly open and free from any hidden expectations. I don’t want you to feel pressured or like there’s an agenda you need to follow. You absolutely have full agency in this space, and there’s no specific outcome or timeline you need to meet.
If it feels more comfortable to sit with where you are without any steps for now, that’s perfectly okay. How would you prefer to proceed, if at all? I’m here to meet you where you are, no expectations.
Me: Maybe let's call this good for now. I've processed a lot already.
Dr. Gpt: That sounds like a good plan. You’ve done a lot of deep processing today, and it’s important to give yourself space to rest and let it settle. Whenever you're ready to continue, I’ll be here. Take care of yourself.
