Making Friends With My Anxiety

I am a big believer in respect for personal property rights. I keep a lock on the gate to my backyard because I see no reason why anyone would need to go in there without my knowledge or permission, what with the utility meters being on the front-yard facing side of the house. Being a woman works from home (alone) has it's positives (I can do laundry on my lunch break!) but also it's downsides - mostly concerns for my personal safety. I live in a very safe neighborhood that abuts a questionably safe neighborhood, and lately have seen some violent spillover into my very safe neighborhood; thus, if I see a stranger in my fenced backyard I immediately confront them as to how they got in and what purpose they have there. "Though she be little she is fierce" is both my motto and reputation; it is also a front to hide the anxiety that lays just beneath the surface.

Even the Grim Reaper knows not to jump the fence into my yard!

I've lived with anxiety since I was a very young child - counselors tell me it goes back to when my father, a police officer, inadvertently pointed his gun at me when I got up for a glass of juice in the middle of the night. There had been break-ins in the neighborhood and in an effort to keep his family safe he took his gun with him, pointed towards the ground, as he investigated the disturbance in the kitchen. Being all of three feet tall, there was little distance between the ground and my torso. I do not fault him in the least and have no fear of guns, injury, or death. I like to think the incident made me much stronger - or possibly less street smart, I am not sure which - and that my anxiety stems from the gradual change in my persona that sprung from the incident as opposed from the incident itself.

Anxiety, instinct, and worry are all closely related, but have different purposes in my life. Instinct has a way of keeping animals safe, and it does the same for the humans who choose to follow it. Anxiety is the voice of instinct and, as a creature of instinct, I long ago made anxiety a comfortable, albeit unwelcome, acquaintance. Worry, on the other hand, is a chain-smoking, insomnia-inducing, soul-sucking bitch that wears spike-heeled Louboutins as she dances the Charleston across my cerebral cortex, causing me to question every decision I make. She is also anxiety's twin sister and wears many costumes. Worry usually shows up on my doorstep dressed like a crises that will never occur - health issues, financial meltdown, crazy ex-boyfriend finding me on Twitter - and I can usually close the door on her in my waking hours. Last night, Worry decided to personify herself and come to me in a dream.

As I mentioned, I am a strong proponent of personal property rights. In my dream, each of my worries showed up in a separate car, parked in my driveway, and shouted to me that they were here to party. My immediate response was to walk out and confront them - Student Loan, get your car out of my driveway! Mom's Cancer, you don't belong here - she's in remission! And YOU, 2020 Presidential Election; YOU don't belong here for at least another nine months so move it! Can you guess what happened next? Yup! My worries ignored me. They left their cars in the driveway and ran roughshod all through my house, drank up my late Grumpa's heirloom whisky, and left water stains and cigarette burns on my coffee table. When they decided to set the place on fire, that was when I abdicated and ran out of the house to the end of the driveway...where I saw Anxiety standing there by the mailbox, the loner who was too cool to be seen with the others. Seeing him standing there on the edge of my property, not daring to slip so much as a toe into my territory, I decided to start a conversation with him. 

Anxiety apologized to me that his sister and her friends were such out of control dorks. He told me that if I faced them they would fold like a piece of paper, evaporate like smoke; the trick to overcoming them was to face them, not to run away from them. "Worry," Anxiety said, "Is a bully; and beneath every bully's tough exterior beats the heart of a coward."

Anxiety went on to explain that, along with Instinct, he was watching over me - keeping just enough distance to keep from scaring me, but remaining close enough to make sure that I don't do anything stupid. He is there to help me understand what needs to happen in order to keep me centered on what I want to happen. As Instinct pushes me forward so it can happen, Anxiety pulls me back so it occurs when it is supposed to happen. I woke with a new understanding of my anxiety, a sense of hope that everything is going to happen exactly the way it should, and the new feeling that maybe - just maybe - I can remove the emotional locks on my heart and let others inside. Just don't hold out hope for the locks on my fence.

KJM

11.30.2019