ill at ease…
I want to write about being anxious. From the standpoint of someone who never identified as an anxious person. But so much has been in my face, pointing in this direction, begging for attention. Last week a full-blown panic attack dropped all the scattered evidence into one basket, under one heading---anxious. I am changing my relationship to the notion.
Opening with a classic anxiety situation: fear of flying. An incident 20 years ago instigated this as a personal fear. Then last week I barely breathed through 90 minutes of unrelenting high-level turbulence. I was swept away on the coat-tails of sheer terror. Luckily my incredible 14 year-old grandson was the adult in the room. His patient guiding compassion saved me. And this is the incident that shook me right into this reflection.
I want to write about being anxious, the underground vibration of it. The on-edge place where every news sound bite or well written article or complaining social media post can pull me into negative bias so quickly. Anxiety wafts through the very air we are breathing. Our left brain and our sympathetic nervous system are continually tempted into a hypervigilant overriding concern for safety, an automatic feed looping through our precious remaining time on this incredible planet.
I know myself and my tendency to live in the throws of hyperarousal. It’s an ever-ready fuel, a resource I’ve been mining my whole life. I wonder, does anxiety feed creativity or does it replace it? Have I somehow learned to harness anxiety’s energy for a ride into the creative? Does it even matter? Maybe. Because likely there’s a cost extracted for the frequent utilization of anxiety. Once the spigot is turned on, it can leak in some painful ways.
Like insomnia. Who doesn’t suffer from this on occasion? In the last four years I’ve had some episodes alarmingly long-standing. I’m amazed at how functional I can be running on anxious fuel. And a car accident, back roads of Mexico, age 12, branded by a forever chin scar. Ever since? I can be an anxious passenger. A sidewalk crack, a hard fall nearly two years ago slowed me down. I’m more careful how I place my feet, a low grade, but often present concern. Anxiety or caution?
And, of course, it’s not all mine. Case in point: a pervasive impatience, a hurry up energy. This built in tendency goes way back. My parents were experts. This anxious manifestation is only partially mine. Some is being generated through me. Thinking further back than parents. There is an ancestral pattern stamped on my genes. And for good survival reasons. Reading Wounds Into Wisdom right now. We all have our own unique version of ancestral trauma.
The chaos of our current time, my life unfolding, strings that pull on me from the past---all conspired to invite a look at my personal relationship with anxiousness. The remedy? Well, a couple things clearly rise like cream to the top. It definitely helps to have skill in calming. For me calm happens when I’m out in nature, connecting with good people, walking, dancing, yoga, meditating, reading fiction.
“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.”
Annie Lamott
But also consider creating. Making something. For me anxious never goes with cooking, writing, gardening, sewing. Right now I’m making seashell mobiles. When I’m creating I’m not anxious. Maybe creativity is my way of managing anxiousness. Maybe creativity replaces anxious. I don’t know.
But I am very curious how this sneaky little demon may be hijacking my life. I’ll be out there Friday, Saturday and Sunday for all of us to unplug and breathe together. No matter if I’m out there taking a class or up front holding one, it is a dose of creativity and calming that pretty much always works. Let’s move together.
❤️Bella