When You Feel Like an 8th Grader Learning Advanced Calculus

I recently had someone say to me that there are days she feels like she has a Ph.D. in quieting her anxiety, and there are days she feels like a Kindergartener. Meaning there are days when everything is clicking, The Monger is in her place, anxiety takes a back seat, and she is in the flow. And then there are days where the Monger seems to live on her shoulder, anxiety is her constant companion, and life is bumpy and challenging. So very true. There is something both humbling and reassuring for me about that observation.

Last weekend I had a kindergarten experience. I am on vacation this week with my parents. My Dad has been living with Parkinson's with Dementia for the past few years. The disease is slowly taking him down both mentally and physically. My Dad, in his heyday, was Large and In Charge--a force to be reckoned with.; a man whose dynamic energy emanated from him and whom you respected just because of his mere presence. This disease has taken that from him. Bit by bit, he is no longer the Man in Charge but a 'cute old man' who gets pitying looks and knowing smiles as he walks by.

As we prepared for the vacation, I was a stress ball. Running from thing to thing and crazed about checking things off my to-do list. My number one sign that my anxiety is high is the belief that once I get everything cleared off my to-do list, I will feel better. Once I finish my to-do list, then I will be able to relax. I place my anxiety/stress into other activities. If you asked me last Friday, "What are you most stressed about?" I would have said, "my to-do list, or packing for the trip." In reality, the reason I was running as fast as possible, I was going to spend five days with my Dad. His disease, his decline, the changes in him were going to be in my face all week. There was no not going to be room for denial (one of my favorite coping mechanisms)

Last Friday, I worked until almost 10 pm, and as I was getting ready for bed, I finally took a moment to pause, breathe and be present. And the tears started flowing. I couldn't run anymore. I looked at myself in the mirror and quietly said, "Oh sweet pea, this sucks, you can't control this."

And it hit me. No matter how much I planned, no matter how much I checked off my to-do list, Dad was still sick no matter how much I took control of the vacation. This vacation wasn't going to be relaxing and carefree. This vacation would be full of ups and downs, harsh realities, frustrating situations, and tender moments. So I cried, I sobbed really, and my nearest and dearest came up and hugged me and just silently held the space for me.

I am attempting to experience this vacation with a new presence, a softened presence, a less in-control presence. I am spending my energy trying to embrace 'what is' instead of spending my energy railing against the obvious. This week I am actively working on this particular lesson, and it has involved tears, hugs, laughter, anxiety, and long walks. I admit I struggle with this particular lesson and feel like an Eight Grader learning Advanced Calculus, but I wouldn't have it any other way. This is why I teach about quieting anxiety. It is a process.

I am so honored to have you on the journey with me.