I am not defined by my anxiety. (Or am I?)

 

"Wow, you are shaky."

Yep. I was shaky. I was in a doctor's office, sitting on the butcher-paper liner on the oddly shaped exam table, and the doctor was just starting to look me over. I had called that morning asking if I could see a doctor for some new, loud, and persistent ringing in my ears. They were able to see me the same day, and I was grateful. But I was shaky and anxious, and it was obvious.

There's nothing like exam rooms to bring back childhood memories of our frequent visits to what my mother referred to as "the blood and bucket" which was our gritty, grimy small town clinic. When we were taken from the large waiting room to the smaller waiting room aka the exam room, we would be left alone for what felt like hours. So to soothe anxiety my mom would start randomly opening and closing all the drawers in the ancient cabinets and we would giggle at all the medical stuff inside.

Exam rooms now are simpler, all the bits and bobs are less accessible, and what you can see is much less hysterical than when I was a kid.

In the course of describing the new symptoms, I went down the list of things that I thought may be causing it, and naturally included that I feel significant amounts of stress and anxiety, and the anxiety seems to be worsening over time. The very polished and professional young female doctor said it was doubtful that this was a cause of the ringing in my ears, but asked if my stress would "get better soon." And suggested that this would be a tough way to live.

She's right. Having a high level of anxiety on a regular basis is a tough way to live. And it's been on my mind since then. 

Before I decided to call the office for an appointment, I did what everyone everywhere does. I let YouTube, Pinterest, and Google diagnose my problem, and it is called tinnitus. And then I took the next logical step and let the interwebs prescribe treatment. So I thumped on the back of my head, tugged on my earlobes, did neck circles, and downloaded sound masking apps. All utterly failed. (The sound masking did help a little, but essentially it sounded like a dentist drill in a woodland forest or a radio frequency in a rain storm.)

In my quest to find my own answer for the tinnitus, I started noticing some unpleasant content that seemed to indicate that this often has no solution, no cure, and can potentially go on forever. And at the same time, I was seeing stuff that proposed that if this is the case for you, you might need therapy. Tinnitus is anxiety provoking, for sure. It feeds into a lot of my fears, like not being normal, not being able to cope, and feeling hopeless.  

This is not a story about the ringing in my ears, as much as it is a story about what led me to wonder: am I defined by my anxiety? Has it reached a point where all I am is my anxious feelings? Will I ever find a way to be confident, peaceful, and powerful?

I have learned some important things about anxiety recently, and even though I am nowhere near confident, peaceful, and powerful, I have some hope.

The first thing I learned is that I do all the classic things that people with anxiety do that actually lead to more anxious feelings. If I find myself confronting a situation that I have found stressful, I try to avoid it at all costs. So what I learned is that my brain interprets that this way: great job avoiding that scary situation, let's do that again and avoid it forever. Instead, what is recommended, even though it sounds like a line from a bad 1970s TV drama is: face your fears. 

I have actually spent time since I learned this trying to find the loophole. I don't want to face the fears I have, I don't want to make what they call an "exposure hierarchy" I can pretty much guarantee that I can avoid that fear for life, thank you very much.

But the bit about training my brain to not look at everything as dangerous or scary does sound like a way I would like to live. I'm thinking about how to face some of them, but I am going to have to baby step this one. So, I am not planning the Polly-equivalent of jumping out of an airplane to cure my fear of heights. (I am scared of heights too but there are much more day-to-day fears I need to face first.)

The next thing I learned is that I can have thoughts, even anxious ones, and just look at them. Just look at them and think: there's a thought. I'm having that thought. I am having a thought that something bad might happen. I'm having a thought that she might be mad at me. And instead of leaning into the negative thought, I can just look at it like something I could put back on a shelf and walk away. 

I tried this just today. I was in my car on the way to the pharmacy to hopefully get my second COVID booster, and as usual, I started having lots of thoughts. What if they don't have any? What if there's a long line? What if I get sick? What if it takes a long time? What if it hurts?

And today, just for a few minutes, I took the advice I had heard and turned those into: I am having a thought that they may still be out of vaccines. I am having a thought that there may be a long line. I am having a thought that I could get sick. You get the idea. I am in no way good at this yet, but it was pretty liberating for a few minutes.

In the end, I was not able to get the shot. It did take a while. There was a line. But I wasn't worked up about it. It just was what happened. 

Here's a link to a great YouTube channel called Therapy in a Nutshell with lots of great videos by a licenced marriage and family therapist. She breaks down complex issues in a way that I find accessible. I highly recommend it. 

I have often thought, particularly recently, why I don't just "trust God more" and find a way out of this anxiety. Trust God more, pray more, and just stop worrying so much, right? This all sounds like great advice, which I have probably given out to someone when they've been anxious. But for me, and I assume for others like me, our brains are hardwired for anxiety. I will have to spend time retraining my brain. And I will do it with God. I will keep trusting, keep praying, and keep learning.

Today as I was driving home from the pharmacy this verse popped into my brain:

Those who go forth weeping, 

carrying sacks of seed,

Will return with cries of joy,

carrying their bundled sheaves.

 

Psalm 126:6

I believe God gave my anxious brain this verse to claim today. I heard him over the ringing in my ears -- loud and clear.

Pray for me, I'll pray for you, okay?