Awareness & Anxiety

A teacher friend said they gained twenty pounds over the last few months, likely from job-related anxiety. One reason I decided to leave teaching was that I gained twenty-four pounds over the first five months of my last school year. Nothing I did made things better, so I got out, naively believing that switching jobs would be so healthy I'd be transformed and the weight would fall right off.

I'm smiling about the wistful logic in that line of thinking. Much of my weight gain was tied to anxiety and unhappiness. A better job meant relief from all that, right? Well, no. I'm still anxious about what to do and what will happen. The tones of my worries have changed, but I'm still anxious. The question is how to deal with that.

Awareness seems the key. Anxiety can be a driver. It's like going on stage. The pressure is good so long as I manage it. However, if anxiety becomes the driver, I'm frantic to the point of being unaware. Then I eat poorly and sink into depression. That's some of why I'm still heavy. I have a great job and I'm out of a terrible job, but I still lack awareness and still carry lots of anxiety. Fighting that anxiety hasn't proven effective. Being aware of it, just being aware, has shown some encouraging results.

Yesterday I was aware. After two days sick on the couch, I felt stronger but not whole. I woke aware of that and wanting to remain checked in throughout the day so as not to wear myself out. Because I was recovering from a stomach bug, I was aware of what, when, how, and why I was eating. By last night I felt good having been aware throughout the day.

Having a goal to lose weight isn't effective for me because it concentrates on a symptom. Awareness seems a better way to go though I won't master it and will likely drop the ball. So it goes. I'm not quite at the top of Maslow's hierarchy. Hell, I can't even see the top from where I stand. That's okay so long as I keep climbing, seeking enough awareness of my world and self that I become more deliberate, considerate, and thoughtful of my choices. That's a way toward contentment, peace, and achievement. It might even shed a few pounds.

I felt myself rev up this morning as I tallied up the things I want to do, the things I felt had to be done. Rather than beat back the anxiety, I whispered, "I'm getting anxious." I made myself aware and the anxiety receded. I took a breath, pet the cat, and came back to the world. If that's all I accomplish today, I'm satisfied.

So Much

All morning I've felt it's too much. The cold beyond the blankets, the dark morning outside the window. The alarm clock's ring. Too much to open my eyes. Out of bed it was too much to boil water for coffee though the gas range does the work. No rubbing sticks or stirring the embers. No wood to carry in from the shed I don't own. Fill the kettle, turn the knob. It's so much. So much. Then the writing. My eyes darting toward the clock ticking down. Three pages, too much this morning. The snow in the driveway demanded shoveling. The shower demanded my presence. The hair on my face screamed for the razor. And then, walking to work, snow shifting with each step, I thought, this is too much. Lifting each boot, again and again, too much and too much. At work I sighed at the thought of plugging in the laptop. There were no tissues for my running nose and email was stacked higher than I could endure. My shoulders fell. I took a deep breath. Held it until it really was too much, then let it out and clicked on an email. The daily poem. David Kirby. "Poking Stuff With Sticks." Not too long, not too much. I read through to the end: "So much stuff out there, just waiting." I looked out the window at snow drifting down and felt my breathing in and out. So much stuff, I thought, but maybe I'm just enough.

Anxiety And The New Job

Indulge me a moment.

Monday night I lay in bed working myself up into a good deal of anxiety about work. Didn't I quit the job that makes me anxious? Yes, yes I did, and I'm in a great job now. I like the work I'm being asked to do so much that I worry about not doing it well enough. Monday night I blew past anxious almost to panic. It's no wonder my dreams were frantic and in each of them I was helpless.

My inclination in such times is to shut up, hide, and hope no one notices. That's led to some predictable results. Sometimes I get through, but the anxiety seed takes root and waits to bloom again. Other times things fail to detonate, like a kid waiting and waiting for his lie to be exposed (not that I've had childhood experience with that, no not me). Still other times the whole thing blows up.

Tuesday morning I woke figuring I would go with the usual plan. Habits. But, in the waiting room of my daughter's MRI, I read a Harvard Business Review article "What Makes A Leader?" (subscriber only link, sorry) about emotional intelligence and leadership. Good leaders show "a propensity for reflection and thoughtfulness," something I like I'm well practiced i doing. I was still feeling anxiety from Monday night, so I stopped reading to acknowledge that.

Then I wondered, now what?

Here's a lot of why I like my job: I have four people to whom I report and I talked with two of them today. I told them about my anxiety and not only did they wave it off as nonsense but they assured me I'm doing well and suggested ways forward. Both also offered specific assistance instead of "anything I can do, let me know."

This is my new job. In my old job, it was all too easy to be alone in my anxiety. In my old job I had to hide from management. In my new job I work with leaders. What a difference.

I still feel like I have to do a better job, but I get that I need to grow into things, and I'm pretty sure I'll get there. I know I've got help. I expect to sleep better tonight.

Thanks for listening to my therapy session. We now return you to your regularly scheduled program already in progress.

Frantic Doesn't Help

There's a lot to do and learn, a whole bunch of uncertainty, and more than the usual number of things gnawing on my mind, so how about I get frantic. Yeah, that'll help.

I've had a half-caffeine coffee this morning and trouble sleeping last night. Maybe that has something to do with the worry and panic coming to a boil within me. I'm like a pan of rice. The water in me is boiling, I've added the dry rice of my to-do list, and though I've lower the heat some my anxiety continues to bubble and boil. The boiling water is flushed out from under the lid by the pressure and it hisses in the flames of the burner, maybe blowing them out, poison gas filling my kitchen.

A morning such as this, I've put the top on but things threaten to boil over. I have choices: hold the cover down in hopes the heat slackens or cock the lid to let some heat and pressure escape. There's only one sensible choice, but I push down on the cover wishing trouble away.

Okay, maybe I'm not that dumb. In the midst of this rising panic, I switched from rushing through work, boiling in my anxiety, to writing this. That may leave space between pan and lid, allow steam to quietly escape, and bring down the pressure. Maybe.

I keep running into that word: maybe. I wonder if it comes from feeling doubtful about so many things or being open to possibility. When the pressure is up I'm sure it's the former. When I calm down I know that it's the latter.

Maybe doesn't apply to whether or not I'll be okay, whether or not I'll learn how to do a new job, whether or not I'm able. I've done more difficult things. I've come through troubles and this is decidedly not trouble. It's a good challenge.

There's also no maybe around whether or not I'll feel panic and anxiety from time to time. Of course I will. I'm starting new things, still dealing with old things, and living a life with a family and all the wondrous complications that involves.

The maybe comes from how I will deal with these things. The pan is on the stove. Water and rice have come to a rolling boil. Through the glass lid I see the white bubbles froth. Steam spurts out time to time and rattles the lid. Maybe I'll deal with the situation before it boils over and makes a mess. Maybe I'll make a mess and clean it up later. Either way, I suspect I'll manage. Being frantic, though it feels like my natural inclination, won't help much. Might as well calm down and have some decaf.