Facing DEFCON 2 Anxiety: Welcoming the Unknown
I have been at DEFCON 2 for the past three days. DEFCON, which stands for “defense readiness condition,” was developed by the Joint Chiefs of Staff to describe how ready our military is for combat, with DEFCON 1 signaling the impending outbreak of nuclear war (thank you, Wikipedia). So, my brain and nervous system have felt one step away from imminent nuclear war. My mind has been racing, but not in an organized way, like an aggressive form of the brownish-gray cloud that follows Pigpen around in Peanuts cartoons. My heart has been intermittently pounding all the way into my ears for no recognizable reason. My jaw has been clenched, and my throat tight, basically every waking moment. It all feels awful. So, in that racing mind, I’ve been trying to figure out what is wrong. Nobody I know is ill. All of the bills are paid. My email inboxes are in a very reasonable state. The house is fine. I have no earthly idea what’s wrong, which worsens it. If I don’t know what’s causing it, I can’t stop it.
Finally, exhausted from all of the catecholamines and wanting to feel better before I take an upcoming trip to Australia, I tried a different tack. This gets a bit “woo woo,” so stay with me. I got out my journal and wrote, “Hey, Anxiety, I see you. What are you trying to tell me?” And then I just let myself write the answers that came to me, not judging them, just getting them out.
Here’s what I found:
“You’re about to take a long plane trip.”
“Planes crash all the time.”
“Planes get hijacked.”
“The airports will be annoying.”
“You’re never going to be able to pack like a reasonable person.”
“You’re meeting Mo’s friends, and they’re not going to like you.”
“You’re going to feel fat, pale, and ugly compared to everybody else.”
“You’re going to come home to a mountain of work that you’ll never be able to dig out of.”
“Something bad is going to happen to somebody in your family while you’re away.”
“You’ll spend way too much money while you’re away.”
“You’re going to overeat and gain weight while away.”
“Your neighbors will be annoyed taking in all your Amazon deliveries.”
My Pigpen brain started to clear up. My jaw is currently unclenching and is now just kind of tired and sore. Now that I’ve got what I’m worried about on paper, it doesn’t seem all that overwhelming. The plane ride will be long, but I’ve already downloaded so many books and podcasts I’m looking forward to. The only way to avoid plane crashes and hijackings is to never get on another plane, and I’m not actually willing to do that. Mo’s friends might not like me? Rationally, I can see this is unlikely. And besides, as long as Mo still likes me, that’s what’s important. Feeling fat, pale, and ugly? Welcome to the human condition. That doesn’t change based on what continent I’m on. Yep, I will come home to a mountain of work, but I’ve dug myself out of those mountains before (after particularly arduous service weeks, for example), and there’s no reason to believe I won’t be able to do it again. Something terrible can happen to my family, whether I’m home or away. I can make a budget so I don’t spend too much money. I can prioritize activity and sleep while saving decadent meals for places that feel uniquely worth it. Will our neighbors be annoyed at Amazon deliveries? C’mon, Anxiety, we have the most amazing neighbors in Nashville, and now you’re just grasping at straws.
Often, uncomfortable emotions feel dangerous; we just want to shout them down or hurry up and “fix” them. Nothing wrong has happened there; that’s just how our brains have evolved to keep us safe. My anxiety was just trying to keep me safe. Not skillfully, perhaps, but it was trying. First, when I turned towards my anxiety, I was able to unpack it and rationally answer its concerns. Second, instead of looping on it, I could sit with it and show myself that I can feel an uncomfortable emotion and not actually explode. It’s not dangerous. It’s just trying to help. It must be slowed down to see those things, though.
Now, when Anxiety pipes up with something else, “What about sunburns?!” I’ve already primed myself to be ready for it. “Nice try,” I’ll think, “the SPF 100 is sitting on the bathroom counter, ready to be packed.”
What’s an emotion you try to run from? To try to shout down: “Nope, I cannot feel this right now.” Take some time (it doesn’t have to be long, I promise) and ask what it’s trying to tell you. You may be surprised by the answers.
I’m off to write a note to remind myself to get our neighbors a souvenir from Australia…just in case.