Ignoring my inner voice; a therapist's wife's lesson in dealing with anxiety--my old friend.

(Did you like that title? It's in boring-and-ridiculously-long title format, research-paper-style. Nice, huh? It's a little trick I picked up along the journey of David's education.)

Most people think I'm pretty chill. And about most things, I really am. But when it comes to my performance as a mother and wife, I am The Queen Of Anxiety And Complete Non-Chillness. It's an impressively long title, I know. You'll just have to trust me when I say I've earned it. Nothing brings out the crazies in me like thinking I might be failing as a wife and mother. I'm not quite sure where that comes from...but I'm not quite sure how much that matters anyway. The fact is, it's there, I see it, and it is an important part of my learning curve here on earth.

Anxiety is a soft word for fear. I didn't recognize it in myself until a few years into our marriage, when it reared its ugly head and started contributing to some serious marital problems. You see, when one person is afraid they might be screwing every important thing up, my experience is that they either eventually shut down out of shame, or they put their fists up and start fighting out of self-defense, like an emotional fight-or-flight response. That kind of fighting can be intense, because it's fueled by self-preservation, desperation, and fear that your worst suspicions just might be true: you're not enough. Not enough to raise children who don't harbor life-long scars from your failures, not enough to preserve their sweet perfection, not enough to keep the husband you were lucky to end up with, or, if you do keep him, not enough to make him happy. It's a horrible beast to battle.

I don't remember when I finally stopped fighting the battle long enough to see that the beast was bigger than I was. But one day, some years into our marriage, I did. I saw it for what it was. I saw the toll it was taking on David and the kids (it was years more before I saw the toll it was taking on me) and I resolved to fix it. I worked so hard. I tried to squash it down and just be happy and relaxed and to tell myself what a good job I was doing. I thought if I worked hard enough, I could get rid of it. I prayed my guts out. I did make progress, but it was slow and difficult. One of my greatest accomplishments during this phase was climbing into bed one night and actually thinking to myself for the first time ever, that I had done a good job as a mom that day. I hadn't blown it. I had made some mistakes and lost my patience a couple times, but overall, I thought I had done a decent, respectable job. Elijah was four years old.

But still, it wasn't really until years later, in marital therapy, that I really began to GET it. Our therapist told me one day that my anxiety wasn't going to go anywhere--that it would likely be something I would feel to some degree, my whole life. I felt defeated. But then he followed it up by reminding me that everybody's working on something, and although I probably couldn't get rid of it, I could learn to recognize it, work through it, and minimize it. It was a huge "AHA!!" moment for me, because for the first time, I didn't feel broken for feeling so anxious, and incompetent for being unable to "fix" it. I felt...human. Flawed but good. And it completely changed my approach.

I started learning to allow David to help me through my anxiety instead of trying to muscle it down on my own (this inevitably leads to some type of explosion or meltdown, for me). I started learning to recognize what anxiety feels like, instead of mistaking it for stress or lack of sleep or anger or anything else. I started learning to talk about it. I started learning about self-forgiveness and acceptance. During this time, I was also asked to preside over the local branch of our church's worldwide women's organization (called the Relief Society). Serving in that capacity taught me more about the Atonement and our eternal worth than I could ever have hoped for. And it turns out, those things have everything to do with understanding that with the Savior, you are, in fact, enough. Flawed and messed up, we are enough. Beautiful, isn't it? And I am sure now, that the Savior wants us to be as gentle with ourselves as He has asked us to be, with others. 

So last week, I was thinking about a particular choice in my life that I've decided to move forward with, and I could feel my anxiety rising by the minute. I made this decision very carefully and have counseled with family and close friends about it. So when I started second-guessing myself, I was so relieved and proud that I finally SAW what I was doing. In the moment. That night David asked how I was doing, and I smiled this truly happy smile and answered that I suspected I was becoming a bit of a crazy person lately, and I felt like I had accomplished something amazing by recognizing it. We talked about it--both the recognition and the anxiety. He helped. I laughed as I told him that I had decided to get through it by:  

1. Relying on the guidance of the friends and family I have counseled with (since they are NOT thinking like crazy people AND have my best interest in mind--a really wonderful combo), and...

2. Completely ignoring my inner voice right now.

Number two totally cracks me up, for some reason. It's so ironic. You go your whole life with everyone encouraging you to pay attention to your inner voice, to listen to your gut, to trust your instincts. Those are really good life skills. But they only apply to people who are thinking rationally. Those of us with some serious anxiety spikes, have to acquire the beautiful skill of knowing when to listen, and when to completely ignore that inner voice. Ignoring it feels a bit like putting on a blindfold and trusting the person whose hand you are holding, to lead you through a mine field. I'm so blessed that David is such a good land mine navigator. Among other things, I very much need him for that. And really, I guess it's not actually ignoring your inner voice. I guess in actuality the real "inner voice" (such an earthy, granola term, but...I don't know what to substitute for it) is the one that tells you to calm down, trust others, and be at peace. Everything else is just noise.

And that's it. No earth-shattering wrap up to this one. I just have been thinking so much lately about learning, growing, forgiving, accepting, loving and changing. I'm so glad we have a lifetime to do it. And I'm happy to look back at how far I've come, and sigh a happy sigh. There is something to be said for heading in the right direction, even if you have a long way to go. 

Thoughts, anyone?