My Age of Anxiety
A true story
Months before I entered the tunnel of despair, I’d sat on the roof next to my second storey apartment window reading a collection of Jesus’ teachings. His words had burned a hole in my heart, but I still hadn’t decided what to do with them. So now, when the darkness decended, I made him an offer: “This would be the perfect time to fix me and prove you’re there.”
Cue crickets.
Nevertheless, I offered him my anxious, holey heart as-is. Result? I was a spiritual schizophrenic: My heart was flooded with peace, even while my brain was wracked with fear. True, God had refused to destroy the tunnel, but he hadn’t waved goodbye at the entrance — he’d entered it with me. I rarely thought of suicide anymore (I’d considered it often before) because now I had a sense of purpose.
Still, the anxiety remained. For six years, I applied the fight-or-flight response over and over again (Fight: “No, fear, go away!” Flight: “Think of something else!”), but it failed every time. “Why?” I asked God.
His answer came while I was driving through the Southern California desert late one night. A wave of panic began rolling over me. I looked out at the cactus silhouettes and thought, What if I suddenly stopped my car, ran to a cactus and embraced it, piercing my body with needles, and then wandered off into the desert, crazy and alone forever? “No! That won’t happen!” Normal-Me shouted. “But what if it does?” Crazy-Me retorted. “It won’t!” “But what if does?”
I suddenly flashed back to when I’d played in the ocean as a kid. I loved it, except that the big waves frightened me. I couldn’t beat them back and I couldn’t outrun them. Every time one crashed down on me it drove me mercilessly into the sand. Then one day I discovered that if I dove into the wave, I’d come out on the other side just seconds later—unscathed and giggling!
Let this wave roll over you, a voice whispered in my mind.
So I looked out at the cactus-silhouetted wasteland and dove into it with my thoughts: What if I suddenly stopped my car and ran over to that cactus and embraced it, piercing my body and…hey, what kind of cactus is this? It must be a saguaro because it has those arm things…funny, it looks sort of like a bird…there are little owls that live in cactuses…no, cacti, the plural of cactus is cacti…
The wave had rolled right over me. Barely a minute after my panic attack began my stream-of-conscious thoughts had rolled on, and I’d forgotten I was even having one. This had never happened before. Ever.
I thanked God, and then said aloud the words that were to become my fight-or-flight replacement response: “Don’t flee, don’t fight—flow.” And God whispered, “So, you’ve finally lost control…
It’s about time!”
Thanks for sharing such a personal journey across the desert, Mitch. I’m so glad that you found the flow. It’s so hard NOT to fight. Or flee.❤️🙏
It is indeed, Gail.
Powerful stuff!
Thanks, Joy.
Interesting. Is that similar to thinking about the worst case scenario? I think anxiety starts when we don’t feel safe or allowed to express ourselves. Such as we think o
If someone really knew me , they wouldn’t like me and I would be alone forever. We fear being alone and rejected, so we start evaluating our behavior constantly. The fears take on a life of their own. We become constantly anxious. Just one example. 🤷🏻♀️
Yes, it is more-or-less letting the fear of a worse case scenario, a “what if…” roll over you, PK.
Compelling testimony! Thank you for sharing your struggles in hopes of helping others find their way. 🙂
My privilege, and indeed my purpose, Nancy.
Let this wave roll over you…I’ll have to ponder that.
it sounds as if you decided to ‘experience it’ – to experience exactly what one is feeling. That is work, and release at the same time.
Exactly, and well said, Meredith.
Who is Meredith?
Oops, sorry, not sure how that got there. What is your name, if you don’t mind my asking.
not at all, it’s not too far from what you wrote: Marija (I am Croatian originally, but living in London UK for decades now), and am happy with the English spelling Maria
Happy to know your actual name, Maria. ;>)
Thanks for writing this.
My privilege, Lois.
Just like grief you have to let the waves roll over you. Easier said than one. Having had both anxiety and major grief I’ve learned a lot and just diving into the wave has gotten easier.
<3
Beautiful. Thanks for opening up and being so vulnerable with us, Mitch. Hopefully your testimony gives others the courage to share from their deepest selves, too.
I certainly hope so, Russell.
“Don’t flee, don’t fight. Flow.” Mitch, I do believe you’ve coigned a timeless aphorism there… 👌✨
Well, it’s always worked for me, Ana. If it’s of help to others, then great.
I, for one, will surely be meditating upon it.
<3
Yes!
Ooh! I’ll have to remember that…
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I love this. Your persistent terror, shot through with rays off hope, remind me of my own mental and spiritual journey. It seems to me like part of your flow was exchanging worries for curiosity.
I’d say you’re quite right about that, Sarah.
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It takes a lot of courage to open up about anxiety. Thank you for sharing your experience so honestly — you never know who you might be helping by speaking up. Love this: Don’t flee, don’t fight—flow.
Thank you, Hayley. I’ve shared that with a lot of anxiety sufferers over the years.