On Anxiety, Ambiguity, and Being Seen
June 1 was the day I promised myself I would have it all figured out. My hard earned efforts to complete interview processes and patiently await committee comments on my dissertation would be rewarded by clarity and a path forward. With one day to go until this deadline, I can tell you this is not the case. The interview outcomes are unknown. The committee comments are delayed. As it turns out, I am not in control of the universe. Dang it.
In the interim I have mopped the floors, finished a quilt that I started three years ago, learned how to change out the winter tires on my bike, prepared the bathtub to be re-caulked and taken the dog for so many outings that the memories blur together as one event. I am re-visiting my own honey-do list to fix the carpet in the basement and re-paint the window sills, tasks that haunted me over the winter as I dreamt of spring inspiration to get them done. Even this blog post was spurred by a space of waiting as my desktop needed another 27-minutes to update the OS before it became functional again.
It sounds productive, right? Get things done in your downtime? I wish I could have enjoyed it but the truth is my anxiety has been off the charts in this ambiguity. Finding things to do is a way of coping. Instead of writing about what I’m accomplishing, I wish I could write the magic bullet blog post on how to conquer anxiety once and for all. After twenty years of searching, I can assure you no such blog post/magic bullet exists.
I’ve consulted my usual round of friends and colleagues on my predicament and the general consensus is, “Yeah, that sucks; sounds like some good potential, though,” of which I completely agree. This offers me some re-assurance that what I’m going through is “normal” but I wish I could similarly share their common sense judgement. Perhaps I do, practically speaking. After all, I’m aware that I’ve done what I can do and turned my attention to mind-absorbing tasks; however, I feel ashamed by how I am, once again, plagued by this incessant, irrational anxiety that rears its head in ambiguous circumstances. It’s a constant process of falling in the deep, resurfacing, re-calibrating and telling myself everything will be okay. To those who know me best, I crack at the surfaces as they remind me of what I already know: You got this.
Even though conversations around mental health have normalized, somewhat, my Gen-X sensibilities caution me about allowing my anxiety to be seen. Even with Brené Brown’s book on “Braving the Wilderness” half-re-read on my coffee table, I am not confident in being publicly vulnerable. What if someone reads this? (“Isn’t that the point of a blog?” chides an inner voice.) In private, I’ll be open and vulnerable with you all day long, trusting myself with that discernment even if I am just getting to know you. Yet, there is something about public acknowledgement of the anxiety experience that gives me great … anxiety. Leaving myself open to be seen, especially after the moment has passed is where my challenge exists. Even non-anxious me has trouble seeing anxious me.
So, why do it? There are plenty of blog posts about nurturing the ‘flight or fight’ response of anxiety. They always say the same thing: #presentmoment #mindfulness #meditation #breathwork #getoutdoors #physicalactivity #yoga #haveyoutriedreiki, etc, etc, etc. I have nothing new to add to this conversation other than my own personal and ongoing, failed experience of escaping anxiety. I know that if I post a photo of my finished quilt that I’ll get encouraging comments on the accomplishment. But like so much art, no one will “see” the tortured mind that allowed for its completion. That is the true accomplishment, finding beauty and meaning in difficult phases of life. Pacing anxiety demands an endurance that far exceeds the efforts of any other “great accomplishment.”
I guess I am posting this with the mindset of capturing a snapshot of life. To challenge myself to be seen in my least perfect of ways. To trust that this will not be a detriment. I would also acknowledge my battles with anxiety as a strength; sometimes for the accomplishments I push through and sometimes for the simple ways I learn to care for myself after two decades of moderating my predicament of intermittent anxious times. I hope I can be encouraging to those go through similar challenges, especially those who might look up to me (a humbling thought) or friends who are going through a tough time.
I wish I could offer some solid advice on how to deal with ambiguity. All I can offer is compassion. For me, it’s a constant reminder that things will be okay. A balance between accepting the feelings that come with it and challenging the thoughts that provoke it. I will get myself turned around again, banking on a track record of 100% success in doing so. It’s just so, so challenging in the moment.
As it turns out, it’s the last day of Mental Health Awareness month. I didn’t plan this blog post accordingly. It just happened that way.
