Anxiety

Here's a fact. A few months ago someone in a position to know such things informed me I struggle with debilitating anxiety. I was confused. I had no idea what he was talking about. I said something like, "No, people with anxiety are more like ____. They freeze up and can't do things they need to do because they're too scared or worried." The man looked at me and said I was wrong, and that anxiety can look a lot of different ways. Like a woman who appears, from the outside, exceedingly competent and confident and strong and brave. Someone who is often told she must be a saint or a superhero, or that other people don't know how she 'does it'. He told me, rather more firmly than was typical for his personality, that just because all of my worry is self-directed or internalized does not mean it is not anxiety. I was still confused. I knew that no one else who knows me would say something like this, but since this guy is our marriage counselor I figured I should at least think about it.

A little while after that I watched a ted talk by Glennon of momastery.com. In the video she discussed being hospitalized as a teenager for her bulimia and how even though she spent two weeks in an adult mental health hospital with schizophrenics and people with violent behavior tendencies she felt much safer than in her high school. She said the other patients said things that made sense and she never felt afraid of them, but her classmates at school made her frightened or worried every day. Her words made me begin to understand.

As a young child I spent a fair amount of time around my father's friends from AA. I remember all of them, and their wives, as kind, lovely people around whom I always felt comfortable. Their expectations for my behavior were easy for me to comprehend. Those men from the AA meetings at the catholic parish in our town were dear to me. Even now, after probably 30 years, if I run into someone close to Dad from back then they are kind and sweet and I feel safe. I understand the unspoken rules of social engagement for recovering addicts, and even for practicing ones. I know what to say and what they expect from me. I don't worry how they see me or if I'm doing something wrong. After the words of our counselor and the video, I realized that's the only place in my life I remember feeling that way. Ever.

I always assumed anxiety was about worrying and being paralyzed by fear of making mistakes. I'm not paralyzed. I daily carry out the necessary tasks and functions for my life. I feed and dress and parent my kids and talk to my husband. I eat and sleep and shower and I go to the places I've committed to going. I just live under the basic assumption 99% of my choices and actions are wrong. I don't worry about it, I just accept it as fact. It's as unalterable as the sunrise. I don't fear mistakes, because it is a given I will make them steadily from when I wake up until I go to sleep. Even sleeping isn't safe, because it's likely I've either gone to bed too early when I should have stayed up and cleaned something or spent time with my husband or I've stayed up too late which will make me grumpy and short tempered tomorrow. My life is blanketed in the constant snowfall of self-criticism. It has always been this way, and it never occurred to me until recently that this is not how everyone lives. It's a bizarre inversion of perfectionism, with equally crippling results. If all my choices are almost inevitable wrong, why bother changing anything that isn't working for me. At least this particular version of wrong is familiar. New choices only mean new means of failing, and that possibility truly is paralyzing. Constant, incessant failure that crushes my soul I can handle. Risking failure people might actually see? Not so much.

Like all of my epiphanies, I have no cures or easy fixes or ideas on how to change it. It seems I tend to live by the old GI Joe slogan "knowing is half the battle," from the 80s cartoon. Hopefully that's true because I am much more than halfway tired of all this emotional slogging.

I guess we'll just have to see what being more aware does for helping me work through it. I wish I had something more uplifting to say today.

Follow up to the world in my head

I wrote this shortly after my last post, but wanted to "tweak" it before I posted it. Clearly by tweak I mean ignore it totally for months. Re-reading it today reminded me of something I need to hear right now; my biggest enemy in my journey toward joy is me. Not my husband or our kids or the evening news or whatever other struggles exist in my life and the world. Just me. And my tendency to assume all the things are my fault. Just all of them, no matter how large or small or how closely or distantly related to my daily life; clearly I am responsible. The original post, sans-tweaking starts below:
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There are so many things about life on this planet we live on that are just hard. Unfair. Unjust. Wrong. So very many ills and tragedies and not quite rights to be found in every direction it seems. I get down-hearted about them all way too often. I let the darkness crowd out all the light and good that exists here too. I allow people who seek to harm, or create disharmony, or just plain start a fight for no purpose choke out the voices of those who wish to heal and love and bring peace and grace and light. Like a broken record--an idiom which is apparently out of date but I cannot bring myself to say 'like a dvd on repeat' instead--I repeat the angry, mean, hateful messages I've heard and it wears on me until I feel frayed and tattered. So much darkness and hate.

But what if I tried to live outside those shadows? What if instead of giving in to fear I lived bravely? What if I acted from a place of love and grace and courage each day? With my kids? My husband? How would my life look different if I was bold enough to love freely and without embarassment over whether I'd look silly or people would think I'm crazy or even (big gasp of anxiety here) disagree with my choices? What if it didn't matter to me anymore whether the cashier in the grocery store thinks I'm a good mother and my children are well behaved because I actually BELIEVED THOSE THINGS ABOUT MYSELF? What then?

Right now in my life the person most in need of hearing truth spoken in love is me. From myself to me. Lost? That's okay, I am too in many ways. Basically, I am learning that most of the lies and unhealthy voices pressuring me to make choices that won't help me grow or change or step out in faith these days are all coming from me. I have somehow managed to pick up a host of bad habits, unkind judgements, and just plain nasty untruths about me and my place in the world. These are what play on repeat inside my mind all day. So my tough truths all need to be full of a love big enough that it speaks loudly enough to be heard over a din of lies I've created all on my own.

So what to do with this little epiphany? Clue zero. Seriously.

Well when all else fails keep it simple right? So I will aim for just seeking the truth about me. Listening to what God says about his kids, and what people who love me say about me. And then reminding myself of those truths as often as necessary until they stick, and eventually drown out the chorus of ick I've been letting call the shots for so long.

Apparently, loving myself as God created me will require speaking truth to myself. Crazy huh?
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Part of drowning out the negative for me seems like it may need involve some length of time where I simply avoid all blogs, books, social media, or tv and just focus on prayer and scripture and probably journalling. I'm still not completely sure how that will look or if I will actually do it but I'll try to update here once I know. Because this blog sort of counts as journalling right?

The World in my head

Today while driving back from visiting a friend a thought came into my head randomly.  
"The hardest truths should be spoken with the greatest love." 
I don't remember if this thought was related to anything specific in my mind at that moment but the sentence stayed with me and I wanted to write it down before I forgot it. I think this little nugget is a cornerstone of the things I have been trying to sort through in my head lately; the many many thoughts and feelings and dreams and plans and needs that make up my life right now. I have been feeling anxious and quite out of balance about it all the last few months to be honest, and it has not been pleasant.

So then this sentence appears, like a little gift to me. Apropos of pretty much nothing in my beat up mini van as I drove, I found myself thinking about love and truth and how what we need in this world is more love, in order to earn the right to speak truth.

I think for me this just means that when I start to feel inadequate and sub-par and as though I could never begin to meet all the expectations placed on me or measure up to the mothering blogs and the pinterest decors and the parenting books, that is when I need to stop. Full stop. Then think carefully about who I am listening to for my messages of worth and belonging. If someone's pinterest page or shared article on facebook or blog post is making me feel like crap on toast perhaps the problem is not--in my case--so much that those people are right and I'm coming up short. Perhaps--and again I emphasize this is about me and my journey and not whether someone else is right or wrong--right now what I need to decide is whether all those well meaning parenting book authors and bloggers and facebook friends have earned the right to speak into the deepest places of my life. More often than not, the answer is no. Besides which, probably most of those people are not intending to speak to me specifically and individually anyway. I have never read any publication which starts with: "Kate, I thought of you and only you the entire time I was writing this piece. Please pay attention and adjust your heart, life and attitude accordingly."

So maybe, just maybe, I need to pay more attention to those folks who actually know me on a personal level and care about my health and well-being. People who have demonstrated over time their love for me and a commitment to my good. And then I must filter all the messages I hear each day about my life choices, my mothering and my housekeeping through a lens that first checks for whether it comes from a source of deep love and grace for me personally. If so, then I should listen well and weigh their words and decide how to apply their advice. But if not? If it's just some random parenting "expert" or magazine ad making me feel like a failure at life then it is definitely time to close my eyes and ears and go find a better use for my soul's attention. 

This may sound simple and obvious to some people, but for me it is a pretty big deal. I'll have to work hard at this practice to make it stick.

More Questions than answers

My kids are determined to claim my intention, despite tons of one on one time with each of them this week, despite an entire family day yesterday and an outing this morning, despite Daddy being home and in the next room and more than willing and capable to help with anything they need. They just want Mommy. It is driving me insane to be honest, but I am even more determined to sit here and write for 5 minutes if it kills me.

I have been feeling what I can only call a divine push to write lately, but write differently than I have historically written here. I don't know what that means for this site, or for any other venues I may explore. I just know I NEED to write. I have a lot of thoughts and hopes and dreams and questions about how that will look and I am wrestling through all of those things and that is why I haven't been writing much.

I also have an intense, driving desire to simplify pretty much everything in my life as soon as humanly possible. I want fewer possessions, fewer events on our calendar, and fewer distractions from my big priorities in life. (God, Bob, kids are top 3) I want space and time to think through things and make good choices that reflect my values. I want room in my brain to consider new ideas and pray and try to change the things in my life that need changing. I want time to bake more and improve my sewing skills and maybe do a few projects around our house. I want to bike and walk by myself more often and soak up the peace that provides.

I want to actually live like I believe what I claim to believe, and I have no idea how. But I am going to keep trying because I am certain it will be worth it.

That is all for today.

Keep Trying

I've started 3 different posts in the last week or so and all of them have languished in my drafts bin, unfinished. And not very good. There has been quite a bit going on around here and I cannot seem to weave all little strings of thought and scraps of emotion into some sort of cohesive mental fabric. It frustrates me, these unsuccessful attempts.

I still can't quite find the the thread of what I want to say exactly, so this will be short. Mostly I just want to remind myself to be writing, and to keep trying even when it seems too hard. Writing is like life that way I guess.

On being awkward

She stood in front of me in the freezing snow, brushing off her car and telling me wonderfully kind things about the deepest parts of myself. She said most of them more than once while I stood there, awkward and uncertain. At a loss for the appropriate response to such thoughtful, sincere compliments. This particular friend is, and has always been, more than willing to be gracious in the face of my numerous quirks and awkward edges. As I drove home I rolled her words around my skull and wondered what on earth it is about a sincere compliment to my character (most especially an accurate one) that leaves me so flummoxed. I can say with both truth and frustration that unexpected kindess, both in word and deed, is more likely to unravel my few social graces than any harsh comment or rude act. My ability to accept or brush off unkindness is well developed. But a pure, unsolicited compliment? What am I supposed to do in response?

My choir teacher in high school drilled us repeatedly on smiling and saying thank you when someone gave positive feedback to a performance. "I don't want to hear any of you spouting off about the kid next to you screwing up when someone says well done. Say thank you. It's the polite, appropriate thing to say. Just thank you. And smile. I mean it!!!" She was a wonderful woman and a good teacher. I try to follow her advice in the broader spectrum of my life but when someone actually mentions anything to do with deep, heart level traits I freeze up. I don't know why.

Except that is probably a lie. I do know why but it scrapes my soul to say it. I freeze because it happens so rarely. Historically, I can think of very few compliments in this category being given. And all those I do remember came from the wrong people. Not wrong because there was anything wrong with them, just wrong because they were not the people I wanted to hear say such things. Not my parents or my brothers. Not the people I should have been able to count on to name those things in me, to help me nurture those places inside that were most me. They loved me, and I knew it. They still do. But they didn't say what I needed to hear, needed to know they saw. To know they noticed, paid attention. My brother did once, when I was in my late 20s, in an offhand sort of way at a family event. I was so shocked I didn't even insult him for it. "She doesn't even realize what makes her so rare. What she has that makes her so great." Considering this came from the same sibling who made large segments of my life an emotional hell I found it . . . startling. 6 years later I'm still startled. And if I mentioned it to him he'd be horrendously embarassed and blow me off entirely. It's how we roll in our little tribe.

****When I read this through again I realized I am giving the impression no kind words were ever said to me--that isn't true at all. I heard lots of praise for things I did well, or performed above expectation. It's just that they always seem to be comments about things I did, rather than who I was as a person.*****

So I'll keep trying to remember to say thank you and mean it and smile. Keep it simple, because it is easier to remember that way. And more than likely I'll freeze up again anyway the next time it happens. And I'll remember, always, that even when I feel most alone and unworthy there is a God who sees me and walks with me. And He has given me a an additional family who DO see me. The real me. And they don't even mock me for it. And I am so thankful.

Learning Things Backwards

So yesterday I read this quote:

"Good is Jesus and His backwards, upside-down ways."~Jen Hatmaker's blog, March 18, 2013

And now I will tell you why it is a balm to my heart right now.
Lately I have been discovering new things about myself. New things about how I see the world; how I interact with my family and even myself; many many new things. Until fairly recently I would have said I was a remarkably self-aware person and while I'm not necessarily wrong about that, I'm learning I still have a long way to travel. Which is good and sort of exciting--if a long, arduous, uncertain journey with no discernible destination can be called exciting--and also scary and frustrating.

Need an example? I have always struggled with how certain things about me just don't "fit in". Anywhere I go, no matter what, there are some things in my soul I just can't quite get to match the world around me. Sometimes I am a trapezoid peg trying to sink into a decidedly triangular hole. Not square and round, those are to easily adjusted for. Other days I just feel like a baloney sandwich at a black tie dinner. Neither the trapezoid nor the baloney sandwich are bad or wrong--they're just not in the "right" environment. In my family of origin I am too "happy" to truly feel at ease. I just live my life from a totally different center than they do and it makes it hard to connect. Again, they are not wrong or bad or even deliberately exclusive. They just see the world from a different side of their hearts and the distance between us can seem insurmountable. My faith gives me a hope they just don't seem to trust is real; it can make me appear 'other' despite our many shared memories and common struggles. On the other hand in my faith community I just so often feel less-than. Less stable. Less together. Less biblically informed. Less able to understand and maintain the mundane things of life. Less theologically mature or sound. Less fashionable. Less gifted. Less intentional. Less faithful. Just less. I recognize these things are all both untrue and unjust when directed at others, because in reality it is just how I see myself. My church family is truly one of the most loving, giving, wonderful groups of people I have ever known. They love me, and us, wholly and well. When we let them. Which I think Bob & I often don't. Sigh.

Also, the more I delve into some of my inner turmoils (can one pluralize turmoil? whatever, I did.) the more I am uncovering that I have learned so very many things backwards from other people. In this regard I truly am "different" than most people. Just last night during a meeting someone mentioned that our group had been handling disagreements so lovingly and well and how it was helping her feel less stressed about reaching our goals as a group.  She ended with something like "I just don't like conflict, so this has been good for me." My first thought was "Eureka!!! I finally understand why our meetings wear me out so much!! Healthy, loving conflict is just exhausting to me."
Why? It is profoundly against Every. Single. Thing. I have ever been taught about how a conflict works. I have absolutely no ability to auto-pilot or instinctively navigate a disagreement amongst a loving group more focused on kind treatment of those with whom I disagree than on winning. Yes I just said winning even though I know conflicts are supposed to be resolved, not won. You see the problem? Give me a shouting, belligerent, irrational, possibly drunk adversary whose only desire is to see me submit to their "right-ness" and I can crush you like a bug. Got a snide, snarky, passive aggressive, conflict avoidant foe who'll agree to your face and then turn around and do exactly as they please the minute your back is turned? Bring it. I can smack that sh*t down no problem.
But ask me to engage in a Christ-like exchange of differing views and opinions with an end goal of reaching consensus in love and true understanding and I am lost. I am ill at ease and adrift in a sea of inappropriate responses. I have definitely grown in this area over the years and can even occasionally formulate appropriate replies without having to filter too much. But usually I have to really dig deep in my mind and shovel multiple piles of sarcastic, belittling, not at all helpful or good words out of the way first. It is so tiring. Worth it, but just tiring.

In a similar way, I am a person often mentally and emotionally paralyzed by the mundane. Especially if it is something mundane that is meant to be accomplished via internal motivation rather than an outside stimulus or expectation. Crisis though? THAT I can do. Give me an unexpected family issue or semi-emergency and I'm on it. Friends in need? Got it covered. Temporary time of strenuous work or emotional output? I'm your girl. Daily, grinding, on-going "regular" issues? Nope. Can't get a handle on it to save my life. Thus I feel more than able to help a friend in struggle, or function at a somewhat normal level in an emergency, but I cannot find a way to keep my bathroom clean or teach my children to do chores. When there is "nothing going on" in our life I am finding that is when I am most likely to find organizing my house or sticking to a cleaning routine to be insurmountable tasks. Now that is not to say I suddenly keep a neat home when things get crazy. It only means at those times I am able to prioritize tasks and mostly I ignore anything unpleasant or not absolutely necessary. So I'll do the dishes, because otherwise we'll run out of forks, but I probably won't have cleaned my toilet in weeks and I won't care. It is an ongoing issue with no easy solution.

Based on conversations with friends and loved ones, I know these are unusual. I'm mostly ok with being unusual, but then sometimes it starts to wear on me. Living a life of constantly, unendingly, ALWAYS being the odd one out is depressing sometimes.
So when I read Jen's wonderfully encouraging words yesterday it was like a a fresh breeze on a hot still day. If Jesus was backward, then maybe I can find my way after all. Maybe there IS a purpose to all this messy growth I'm experiencing. Maybe some day I will look back and be able to clearly see how all this was exactly what I needed in order to serve God and help others. I'm writing it down just in case.