More Somethings New

Yesterday provided the opportunity for several delightful SNs.

A friend and I walked through a park I've been in many times before, but yesterday we took a path I'd not been on, one which took us away from the lake coast and into the forest.  So delicious, fragrant and quiet.  Afterward we went to a Vietnamese café for lunch, and I tried an iced matcha green tea latter for the first time.  It was good enough that I was happy to drink it, but not so good that I'll be searching out others of its kind.

In the evening I joined two friends in one of their backyards to sit around a fire canister and talk over snacks.  One of the snacks was dehydrated plums, which are like plum jerky: a bit sweet, a bit tart, a lot tough and chewy.  A few bites of those was plenty, but I'm glad I gave them a try.

The most important recent SN, however, happened night before last.  As I was getting into bed, I suddenly began to feel anxious and panicky.  (I don't like to use the word 'attack' for such feelings because it sounds too aggressive and unmanageable.)  There was no true basis for these feelings, so they attached themselves to whatever was on my mind.  If the feelings had had a voice, they would have sounded like "Oh no!  Oh no!  Everything is bad, ruined.  I don't know what to do.  I'm a bad person.   All is lost.  I'm so scared."  Something like that.

But just as quickly as those feelings grabbed hold of me, I deliberately found another voice to talk them down.  "You're all right," I said aloud.  (I often refer to myself in the third person when I am under the sway of conflicting feelings or voices.)  "There is nothing actually wrong.  These are just feelings.  Look at your life.  Do you see that everything is all right?  If something goes wrong, you will handle it.  You have help.  You're not alone.  You're safe."

In the past when I have felt especially anxious, I have usually either hidden my head under the covers or asked Sweet Hubby to calm me once he comes to bed or just trembled and cried until the feelings went away in their own devilish time.  This was the first time I can remember becoming my own advisor and caretaker so quickly and with such assurance.  I guess I was metaphorically (symbolically? not quite sure of the right word) taking care of that 7-year-old girl I turn into in times of fear or stress or anger.  It really helped.  Because when I look at my life, there usually really isn't anything wrong, at least nothing concrete.  When I have actual problems or difficulties, I spend my energy thinking of how to solve them.  This anxiety is something else, something deep-seated, irrational, all the more uncomfortable for its inchoate nature.  I hope I will remember this recent night, and remember that I can be my own best ally and counselor.