Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

anxiety

When I let you enter my mess

I crawled back under the covers as the first of a waterfall of tears spilled out of my eyes and onto my face. I had woken up several hours earlier unready, unwilling, to face the day, but the kids were awake and moving throughout the house and sometimes they just need a little supervision to keep the fighting at bay, so I had gotten out of bed, made coffee, eaten breakfast and now here I was back in bed before it was time to walk to the bus stop.

The night before, I’d cried a bucket of tears, releasing all the feelings I’d invited to a party I didn’t know I was hosting. For several days, I’d felt everything, or close to everything, a person can feel: anxious, afraid, jealous, disconnected, insecure, unwanted, unloved, incapable, frustrated and well, all of it. That night, I just had to let it out and the next morning, I needed a moment to keep letting those feelings out.

“God,” I whispered through the tears. “I can’t do this. I can’t get out of this pit by myself. I need help. I need You.”

(I’ve never been diagnosed with depression or anxiety, partly because doctors’ offices bring out the liar in me and mostly because neither are frequent or debilitating. Diagnosed or not, I think we all deal with these in mild form in some way or another, but I believe medication can help some people and I believe others don’t need it. I’d group myself in the latter.)

I pray this way sometimes. God, get me out of this mess. God, help me change. God, I can’t do it. And sometimes I expect a quick change and it doesn’t come and other times I expect nothing to change immediately except that I’ll have had a good cry and voiced my needs and can stumble through the rest of my day.

That morning, I didn’t know what to expect. Aside from getting my daughter to the bus and my husband to work, I had no plans, so I could wallow in my mood all day if I wanted. But when the words and tears came out, I felt the sadness leave, too. At the same time, my mind began composing words and thoughts, some of which you’re reading now. I was writing in my mind–I’m almost always writing even when I’m not parked at the computer–and I was being soothed in the process.

I got out of bed, dressed and completed the morning’s errands.

Where my mind had been clouded before, there was now clarity. And peace. And though the circumstances that brought on the anxiety and depression hadn’t changed, I had changed. I still carried a lingering sadness but it wasn’t overwhelming.

This is what it’s like inside my head some days.

—

Why do I tell you this?

To be honest, I have no idea, except that I don’t want you to think that what I write here is the work of someone who has it “all together.” I would hate for you to read these posts and think that I’ve arrived or that I’m better than you or that I can’t relate to your struggles.

I don’t know if that happens when you read this blog, but I know it happens when I read other people’s blogs and books.

Which is why I was deeply moved by this series on the Momastery blog recently. The Sacred Scared invited a handful of people who are speakers, bloggers, writers, and kingdom builders to share their fears to prove that no one has to be perfect to show up and do the important work. Many of the women who shared are writers I admire. And all of them–all.of.them–shared a fear that I can relate to. Insecurity, body image, social settings, how ministry will affect my kids. And in the sharing, they are no less inspiring.

Through them, I see that God is not waiting for the “perfect” or “all together” or “right” people to do the work. He wants what I’ve got. Even if it’s a mess.

—

If you walked in my house today, the smells of last night’s homemade cheeseburger mac would greet you. Our back door, the door we always use, opens into the kitchen and I’m never caught up on dishes. By the time dinner is over, I have no more energy to clean so I always leave the dishes till the next day. (Our dishwasher’s name is Lisa and she easily tires of housework.)

mess house

If you made it past the toys scattering the floor into the dining room, you’d likely step over more toys the kids had pulled out in the 15 minutes a day they’re together to play. (Seriously, how does it happen so fast?) You’d see unpacked boxes (we moved here in July) and random papers strewn across the coffee table. You might crunch a fish-shaped cracker or notice crumbs in the carpet.

Look too closely and you’ll find dust in the corners and on the electronics. If you came today, the bathroom might still be clean from a recent scrubbing. But I wouldn’t let you in to either bedroom for the piles of laundry that might greet you.

It’s safe to tell you this on the Internet because you can’t see it or smell it for yourself. And all of that mess is one reason I’m reluctant to have people over.

I’m embarrassed that my house isn’t clean, that my dishes are dirty, that we’re not completely unpacked from a move that happened more than six months ago.

But I’m beginning to wonder if being embarrassed by the internal state of my house says less about me and more about what I think of other people.

Do I think they’re going to judge me? Or not want to come over? Or be disgusted by it? Do I worry that I’ll look like I don’t have it all together? Will they think me lazy because I can’t spend hours every day cleaning my house? Will they think I’m a bad parent?

I do not judge a friend by the state of their house. At least I don’t think I do. Chances are if I come over, they’ve cleaned ahead of time. I know how this works. In the 10 or 15 minutes prior to arrival, there is a mad scurry of cleaning that accomplishes more than a day’s worth of housework. Never do I “drop in” on someone’s everyday mess because I know how I would feel if that happened to me.

And yet. We want our house to be a place where people can come. We want to have people over. And we have neglected this vital part of our life because … I don’t even know anymore.

—

So, maybe if I let you see the mess inside my head, I can let you see the mess inside my house. The truth is: life is messy. And sometimes I think I’m a mess, too.

But as the Momastery founder once shared: “You are not a mess. You are a feeling person in a messy world.”

That changes everything for me.

I have a lot of feelings. And life is messy.

And it’s messy for all of us.

And I need to let you in.

How to face your fears and live to tell about it

I saw a comic this morning before I left the house. A caped girl, called Anxiety Girl, was described as “able to jump to the worst possible conclusion in a single bound.”

I laughed.

And then I proved her words true for my life.

I went grocery shopping with my son, and after our first stop, I realized that the money that should be available to us for food every month (we qualify for food stamps), hadn’t processed yet this month. It was okay for today, but I started panicking. What if it doesn’t come at all? What if there’s been a mistake? What if …?

We bought what we needed. And we are not in danger of starvation.

Yet, I feared.

***

Before we moved, my son wanted nothing to do with dogs. A former neighbor’s dog was loud and sometimes mean, and we’d had a few run-ins with some unfriendly, unleashed dogs that struck fear in all of us: dad, mom and kids.

Even gentle dogs, puppies, he would shy away from.

Then we moved to a new place and our neighbors here have dogs, two big ones we often see in the backyard when they’re out to do their doggy business.

And I wondered if it was only a matter of time before a dog bite. Or if my kids would always be afraid of dogs and if there was any way to help them overcome it.

***

train tracks

Train tracks sometimes scare me. Even when there are gates. My heart catches in my throat as I imagine getting stuck on the tracks when a train is coming and being unable to move from its path. Maybe I watched Stand By Me one too many times as a kid or heard one too many stories about train-versus-car accidents. For whatever reason, crossing train tracks is an anxiety-inducing experience.

The first time we made the trip from our new house to my husband’s work, we crossed a set of tracks that have no gates, no lights.

And I feared the crossing every time we made the trip, twice a day or more.

***

Here’s the thing about fears and anxiety: it’s a really crummy way to live.

I’m no expert or professional on the subject, but I’m learning that for some fears and some anxieties, there is a way to meet them head on and live to tell about it.

***

A year ago, our food budget was almost non-existent. We’d been disqualified from food stamps due to a law change at the same time my husband was out of school and looking for full-time work. Some months, we spent $20 at the discount grocery and made it work. We ate a lot of PB&J and pasta. We also had some very generous friends who helped us out.

Ever since I watched The Pursuit of Happyness, that Will Smith movie where he and his son are homeless and just trying to get by and get out of that situation, I’ve feared being homeless and hungry. We were never in danger of either, but that season of leanness taught me to trust. God. People. Even my own resourcefulness to make a meal out of practically nothing.

***

On Saturday, we went to our local library branch for a program with reading assistance dogs. It was our third time visiting the library for this. A local couple brings in their greyhounds and the kids can sit on the floor and read or show books to them. The first time we went, my son was scared. He didn’t want to sit anywhere near them or leave my lap. Each time, he’s gotten more comfortable with the dogs. This time, he was almost more excited than his sister to go see the dogs. Now he’ll sit on the floor by them and let his monkey pet them when he leaves.

And we’ve been outside enough times when the neighbor dogs are out to know that the owners have a good handle on the dogs. They’ve never even approached us and they listen well.

Not all dogs are vicious. Not all dog owners are lax. We don’t have to fear all dogs. Experience is teaching us that fear denies us opportunities to learn and grow. These greyhounds are so gentle and special. Had we continued in our fear of dogs, we’d have missed out on a great relationship with them and their owners.

***

Every time I approached the unmarked tracks, I slowed the car and looked both ways and gunned it across. Then I began to notice that other cars paid the crossing almost no attention at all. They didn’t slow. They barely glanced. They just crossed. I wondered if the tracks were no longer in use, although I didn’t see a sign that said that. So, I took after the other cars and started crossing at normal speed.

Then one day, I saw the lights of a train farther down the track. Another day, I saw the back of a train going around the curve.

Not a dead track, after all. But the trains were moving slow, so I figured the chances of my car being hit by a train were slim.

Finally, we came upon the tracks one day when a train was moving around the corner. The conductor blew the whistle loudly and frequently as it approached and all the cars stopped on either side of the tracks. It was then that I realized that if the conductor was doing his job, I would hear the train long before it was dangerous to cross. And I wasn’t likely to miss the sound of the whistle.

Others who have traveled this road frequently must have known this. Now, I know it, too.

And I’m less afraid of crossing the unmarked tracks.

***

Not all fears are the same. I get that. Not all anxieties are the same. Some are deeply rooted in painful experiences and require professional and medical help. I’m not offering a one-size-fits-all solution.

But I wonder if some of our fears and anxieties can be overcome by some of these things I’ve learned:

  • by experiencing the thing you fear. It could be that what I fear isn’t as bad as I think it could be.
  • by building relationships and trusting other people. Positive experiences and relationships might counteract the negative ones that cause me fear.
  • by learning from others’ example. My kids learn from me what to fear and what not to fear. Could I not do the same with more experienced peers?

Trust me when I say that I don’t have the anxiety thing all figured out. I still find my heart rate increasing when I’m in a crowd or trying to navigate the grocery aisles with two kids on a busy day. I still fear the worst when things don’t go as I expect.

But I don’t want to spend my life living in fear.

So, I’m learning. Or trying to.

Tell me, how do you overcome your fears? What ways have you found to send anxiety to the sidelines?