I was talking with a friend about anxiety yesterday. He has a newly acquired panic disorder. I have waded through the murky waters of self-diagnosed anxiety disorder until I reached a place where it no longer qualifies as a disorder. I found my way through by using the geysers of anxieties as indicators of sub-surface emotional pressure. Then I stalked around in my own brain looking for where to dig for the things I was suppressing/repressing. It is an interesting thing, studying your own mind. I do it all the time. I react to things and part of my brain says “That’s interesting. Why did I do that?” I think this is one of the reasons I like Sir Terry Pratchett’s books about Tiffany Aching. They explore the concept of having second, third, and fourth thoughts where each layer considers the one before it.
The self-examination is often useful, like this morning when I was able to see that I was feeling upset and my conscious mind kept trying to create reasons to explain it. I changed clothes multiple times and was still dissatisfied with the end result, but my feelings had nothing to do with the clothes and everything to do with uncertainty about other things. Once I could see the problem for what it was, I was able to tell Howard. He hugged me and told me it will all be okay, which didn’t solve anything, but made me feel better. Feeling better did lead to some solutions.
Other times this looking at my own thoughts just adds extra layers of chaos to whatever experience I am trying to sort. At such times I wish my brain would just shut up.
I have not been doing a very good job of keeping the Sabbath as a day of rest. Lately it has been a day of household things I did not get to during the week which are now urgent. So Sunday has been a bit too full of laundry, dishes, and de-cluttering. It has also become a day full of To Do since I am arranging the church Christmas party and I have dozens of people to talk to, who are more readily available on Sunday when I know they are not at work. My Sunday refuge from To Do has been missing for months.
There are voices in my mind which tell me that this represents a failure on my part. These voices chatter and insinuate that the very fact that I am so busy also represents a failure. If I were just more capable I would get things done more efficiently. Alternately my hectic life represents my failure to estimate what I am capable of doing. I have failed to say no. I’ve failed to slow our lives down to a sane pace. The list of failures is long, and these voices will latch on to just about anything as evidence of failure.
It just now occurs to me that this flailing around to explain my sense of failure is rather like this morning’s upset. The feeling exists and my brain is trying to explain it. The feeling is coming from someplace deep that I can’t see through the cloud of distraction. I wonder what I have buried that I now need to dig up. I also wonder when I’ll find the time to go digging.
Environmental factors were huge in bringing my anxiety down to a controllable level. In my case the disorder was triggered by long-term financial stress followed by a large financial blow. The anxiety was greatly relieved when we were able to make solid steps toward restoring our finances. My current emotional struggles will be greatly relieved when I am able to reduce the length and weight of my average daily To Do list. I think this is coming. I’m working toward it even though I’m a little afraid to believe that I am capable of accomplishing it. Success is hard to see through the chaff cloud of small failure thoughts.
Link was supposed to give a talk in church today. I remembered this fact after I settled myself on the bench and opened the program to see his name there. We scrambled all week to accomplish the work for three Scout Merit Badges. I also had “write talk” on my To Do list for him. But once the badges were done he and I both collapsed into puddles of relief and forgot the talk. I hauled Link into the foyer in a panic, ready to coach him on giving an impromptu testimony. Howard solved the problem more sensibly by walking up to the bishopric and saying that Link wasn’t ready, could he talk next week? This is how Link and I came to be sitting in my office right after church, writing down his talk for next week.
He put together a good set of thoughts with appropriate authoritative references. I tried to help him think of personal experiences that he could also share, but Link came up dry. He was confident that prayer works, but couldn’t give any specific instances of when it did. I looked at my son and realized that he was displaying the essence of child-like faith: belief based on a feeling of rightness without visible evidence. I pointed this out to him and it made him glad.
I think I need to wield more faith in my own life. I need to use it to cut through the clouds of self-doubting chaff. I need to have faith in myself and in my own capabilities, even when I can’t see any reason for it. I need to have faith that the same processes which have helped me dig up my buried troubles will work again. I need to have faith in the inspired messages I have received. Because just as Howard told me this morning that everything will be okay, so has God been telling me over and over that I have no need to fear. Faith can be my sword and my light in dark places. Or perhaps faith is a lighted staff like the one Gandalf used when he confronted the Balrog and said “You shall not pass!” I can just see myself barring the way, defending my Sabbath from my list of Things To Do. Alternately it may be as simple as the realization that Sarah makes in Labyrinth “You have no power over me” where upon all the noisy voices slink away in silence.
I do not always have power to solve problems in the physical world, but I have great power inside my own head. I can beat back the fearful thoughts, the worries. I can turn my life into a joyful place despite the unending list of things To Do. It is not a single epic battle, more like a siege, but I can still triumph. Now where is my sword? I’ve got stuff to do.