The Anxiety Club

You in? If you weren’t in “the anxiety club” or very anxious before, there’s a chance you’ve experienced heightened levels of anxiety during the past 4-6 weeks.

I’m not talking about panic over cooking a late dinner, but the real deal anxiety. It’s the kind my friend, Jill Dyer writes about in her essay, Panic.

It can happen suddenly - a rush of adrenaline, your senses are deactivated and your focus is singular.

But, focus on what? 

Is it the fact that you’ve lost your job and are trying to apply for unemployment?

Is it that you have a job and are working amidst children at home?

Is it that you need to go to the store and don’t want to put on your mask?

Is it that you had a trip planned, graduation to attend, and all of that is scrapped? 

Or is it that you have the chance to re-enter something of the life you knew and now you don’t want to?

Is your extended family calling more and they weren’t safe before and now you feel obligated to engage? I mean, after all, this could be the end of the world. 

For me, the world is turning, spinning, changing faster than I am. It’s noisy. The harsh realities are squeaking and screaming. The problems pre-pandemic didn’t disappear. The anxieties and worries pre-pandemic have been re-prioritized. Now, I consciously think about our toilet paper supply, meat consumption, dried bean stockpile (I wasn’t stockpiling before, but now am wiser.)

Suddenly, new anxieties are more pressing, as well. Will Luis have work? Will my new office open?

Did God leave us? Did God leave the immigrants in the fields? How do I make sense of eating vegetables and fruit knowing that immigrants who’ve been demonized are the ones putting their lives on the line to feed me, my family and community? I just don’t. 

If you haven’t joined me in a momentary anxious moment, thank God! Unfortunately, as a woman of Faith, I can tell you there isn’t a magical “faith” prayer to take anxiety away.

You can be faithful and anxious.

You can believe in God and experience panic.

You can trust Jesus and suffer bouts of anxiety and prolonged struggles.

Faith isn’t a guarantee that anxiety will magically disappear. What I can tell you, is that anxiety met with Faith — with meeting God in prayer and petition, is both humbling and empowering. It is recognizing my need, and that life is this process of making things new (redemption), each moment. 

My prayer is to remain present in each moment. To return to my body, which is fearfully and wonderfully made. To cast my cares on Him when I can. To recognize my pride and self-sufficiency. To give grace to spaces I haven’t grown. To ask forgiveness. To not cheapen forgiveness. 

Then, I cling to I Peter 5:6-7, “6 So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and at the right time he will lift you up in honor. 7 Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you.”

Here’s what I do know, that grounds me, and doesn’t necessarily make any of it better:

1. I love baths with epson salts. I take them multiple times a day if I can. And, I don’t feel guilty for soaking, even if I fill up the tub for a few minutes and have to jump out to referee my kids fighting.

2. I listen to music. I love #juicy, #comolaflor, #thegreatestshowman, #cocosoundtrack, #memories, and more. I grieve, rage, worship and pray to God while I listen to music.

3. I make a schedule I don’t have to keep. The schedule is a guideline for my day. Of course, there are some zoom meetings, and other things, but for my family, we snack all day, take random breaks to dance.

4. We argue. We disagree. We repair. We love. It’s a cycle. With six people inside of a small space, and a smaller working space, we get under each other’s skin. So, I just accept that we are going to have arguments, and disagreements. Then, sometimes we cry. A kid or teenager or adult may yell. We are all feeling the collective stress. Then, we repair. We say we are sorry for specifics. We try to come up with a way to navigate the conflicts. It’s not perfect.

5. We Marco Polo friends, video chat, and ignore calls too. Sometimes we can respond and engage outside of our home. Other times, we cannot do it. We just sit down and don’t talk to anyone else. That feels good.

6. Sometimes, I take a time out. I go to my room, sit on my front porch, put on my headphones, or get back into bed. I need it. It feels good. 

7. Finally, and this is not an exhaustive list, I return to trust and faith and hope and despair and love as an essential part of grieving. The wells of grief I’ve written about previously (wavesofgrief).

Peace, friends.

Danielle