Hello again, hello
A nod to Neil Diamond, and a few thoughts from an unintended writing break
After an unplanned leave of absence that included my son-in-law and three grandsons building our hay barn,
frying turkeys and spring rolls outside,
playing hockey in the basement,
a real-live in-house barista who brought all his equipment,
and a house full of children and grandchildren plus a few strays,
I am back with some thoughts.
Control
On my first day back at work (from home, praise the Lord), I realized with great clarity that being an editor satisfies my need for control. I open a document someone else has written and the first thing I do is turn on the Show/Hide All button. That’s the one with the little paragraph icon. Have you ever tried it? If you haven’t, go ahead and click it and see what magic appears on your screen. It shows every invisible marking in your document—every space (and whether it is non-breaking or not), every return, every soft return (these are a nightmare for the layout person), every tab, and every position of every jot and tittle, to use a good King James phrase.
I always turn on Show/Hide All because I want to be in control of the exact number of spaces and how we got to the next line and how much line space is in front of or after a heading. I want to know whether two words will stick together or be split between lines, and I want it all to be exactly the way I want it. Seriously, if you’re ever feeling like life is getting away from you, just use Show/Hide All to be in charge. It’s a great non-confrontational dopamine hit.
Mammoth March
Have you heard of this? I hadn’t until my daughter asked if I’d like to participate in the Virginia Mammoth March with her next April. I wondered what we would be marching for, but it turns out this is just a long hike—20 miles. The Virginia event takes place at Pocahontas State Park just south of Richmond and I thought that sounded like a fun way to spend a few days with this daughter who has a husband and six children and I don’t get to spend nearly enough time with. So I asked, “How many days is it?” and she answered, “Just one. You have eight hours to finish.”
Okay then. It’s been a while since I hiked 20 miles in one day (actually never), but I figured if other people can do it, surely I could do it too. She went on to tell me about the Tennessee event at Fall Creek Falls State Park, and said she might sign up for that one too.
Then two days after they all left to go home, she texted to tell me she’d signed up for both. She said the Tennessee one would be more challenging since it included a lot of elevation change, and said she would be training for that one. I replied, “Heck, I’m going to train for the flat one!”
So training commenced with yesterday’s 4-mile walk. That’s a normal distance for me, but I pushed myself to walk faster than I usually do. There must be a balance between go faster and girl, you are 64 so simmer down. Hopefully I will find it between now and next April.
Anxiety
I have not tried to hide the fact that I struggle with anxiety. A while back I wrote this piece about it, and since then I have been trying to put my own words into practice. Sometimes I hate when I preach to myself. But there is my advice, staring me in the face waiting to be acknowledged and acted upon.
In the essay, I shared what my youngest daughter said to me about anxiety and which I wish I could forget but can’t. She said,
Anxiety is rooted in a spirit of control. When I feel anxious, I ask, what am I trying to control that’s not mine to control?
This does not apply to editing.
Back in early November when it became clear our daughters and their families wanted to come for Thanksgiving, we started planning. That would also be the time our son-in-law would build the hay barn, so it worked out well. They all drive nine or ten hours to get here, so it’s kind of a big deal to make it happen.
And as I do every year, I immediately started feeling anxious about it. Where would everyone sleep? (One daughter has six children.) How would I feed that many people for that long a time?
Typically my anxiety pushes me to make a detailed plan so I can feel in control of the situation, but this year was different. After the initial feelings of serious angst, I found myself . . . not planning. I don’t think I planned a single meal until the day before they were all coming when I wrote down a few ideas in Sunday school (sorry, Dan) and made a brief grocery list. I kept waiting for the panic to come and it just did not, maybe because I loosely adopted the idea that my daughter feeds eight people 21 times a week and how hard would it be for her to add a few more? I would get a ton of fresh vegetables, I stockpiled eggs for weeks before they came, and I knew I had a freezer full of beef.
Every so often I made it a point to notice that I was not panicking, that everyone was getting fed, and that all we had to do was keep cooking. As soon as one meal was over we were working on the next one. Make bread every day. Fill them up with fresh, raw milk. Nobody went hungry and aside from the amount of work involved (which was pretty much constant), it wasn’t that bad.
In my last session with my therapist in January, she said if I only remembered one thing, it should be to notice when I felt safe. She suggested that if I would keep paying attention to when I was not anxious, that it would become normal for me to not feel anxious.
I’ll be the first one to say I am not good at actually doing in real life what she tells me to do in the office, but apparently I have remembered enough to make a little bit of difference. I don’t know how to explain the change other than to say that this year was better somehow. Just as much stress, but less stressful feeling. Does that make sense?
The long and short of this year is that I am working on being okay with not being in control and boy-howdy that’s a tall order. I am reminding my body that I am safe even when things appear chaotic.
Then I heard my middle daughter having a conversation with a young lady who came for the holiday, and Leah said, “You don’t get to be in control because only God is in control. When you try to be in control, everybody suffers. And further, when you try to control others, you are doing to them the exact thing you don’t want done to you.”
Ouch. My difficulty with this is that, okay, I can accept not being in control, but you don’t get to be in control either. As soon as I feel like someone is trying to control me, I’m fighting back with some control-grabbing of my own. Just me?
Phew. Life is hard.
So what’s the point of this ramble?
First, anxiety is rooted in the desire for control. Second, when you let go—even a little bit—anxiety decreases and nobody dies and you are still “safe enough.” Third, stop fighting for control. If you feel like someone is trying to exert control, hand them over to God (daily, hourly—minutely if you need to). He is much better able to reign them in than you are, and you can stay calm in the meantime.
Finally, I can’t leave without sharing this gem from Spotify in this year’s Wrapped:
What does this say about me? That I am scatterbrained and don’t know what I like?That I am multifaceted or I can’t make a decision? That there is way too much going on in my head and I am trying to figure out what pacifies me? My top-five favorites included Steven Sharp Nelson (a cellist), Mozart (always a safe bet), and Elevation Worship (who needs doctrine). I also listened to some Indian flute music (calming), some popular stuff from the 1970s (I am surprised how many songs didn’t actually end, they just faded out. Didn’t they know how to finish chord progressions back then?), and a fair amount of classical guitar (the free spirit in me enjoys this).
Here’s to almost making it through another year. Remember, every day we are one day closer to spring!