I seem to be having a weird moment. It may be more “A-ha!” than weird, but it feels weird. Thanks to the Bible study in which I’m taking part, I’ve been thinking about anxiety a lot. This afternoon, I find myself fussing because it’s too early to plant my tomatoes and cucumbers. That fits with one of the observations I’ve made earlier. One of my issues is when I can’t do anything but think about whatever the something is, I get anxious.
One problem here is that there’s nothing to do. So why can’t I let go and do something else? The more important problem here is that anxiety is being defined as a storm of “what ifs.” I really don’t have “what if?” problems with my garden. What I have with my garden. I do have “what if?” problems with writing… what if I no agent will take me on? What if no publisher will publish it? What if I self-publish and no one buys it? What if I waste all that money for nothing? What if (and this may be the worst) I go through all I’ve gone through with it, and no one gets what I’m saying?
What this suggests to me is that there is, or can be, some anxiety in my life. My general response to it is that I promised myself that I’d only stop writing if someone in the business whom I respect tells me to stop writing. That hasn’t happened yet, so the what ifs are put on the shelf. They don’t matter. But this other thing that isn’t a what if but that causes what I’ve been calling anxiety. What is it?
Here’s where I feel like the patient in the doctor’s office. Is it this? Is it that? Is it cancer?
And the doctor replies, “I’m sorry, it’s much worse, it’s age.”
There’s nothing you can really do about age.
What is this negative energy producing thing? It might be impatience. It might be slightly more general: frustration. It might be perfectionism.
The signs I’m seeing aren’t “Watch for falling rocks,” “Deer crossing,” and “No guard rail.” It’s not even “Hazardous road ahead, proceed at your own risk.” No, the problem is that the signs that I’m seeing say “No right turn,” “no left turn,” “no U-turn,” sometimes “Detour” and the worst of all… “STOP,” or “WAIT.”
I’m not sure the answer isn’t a lot like the answer for anxiety. The answer is to wait and to trust. I find myself wondering if it would be wrong to say, “Be frustrated for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God.”
What this suggests to me is that there is, or can be, some anxiety in my life. My general response to it is that I promised myself that I’d only stop writing if someone in the business whom I respect tells me to stop writing. That hasn’t happened yet, so the what ifs are put on the shelf. They don’t matter. But this other thing that isn’t a what if but that causes what I’ve been calling anxiety. What is it?
Here’s where I feel like the patient in the doctor’s office. Is it this? Is it that? Is it cancer?
And the doctor replies, “I’m sorry, it’s much worse, it’s age.”
There’s nothing you can really do about age.
What is this negative energy producing thing? It might be impatience. It might be slightly more general: frustration. It might be perfectionism.
The signs I’m seeing aren’t “Watch for falling rocks,” “Deer crossing,” and “No guard rail.” It’s not even “Hazardous road ahead, proceed at your own risk.” No, the problem is that the signs that I’m seeing say “No right turn,” “no left turn,” “no U-turn,” sometimes “Detour” and the worst of all… “STOP,” or “WAIT.”
I’m not sure the answer isn’t a lot like the answer for anxiety. The answer is to wait and to trust. I find myself wondering if it would be wrong to say, “Be frustrated for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God.”
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