This story starts as the ball of worry

I was carrying between my shoulder blades.

I didn’t even know I was worried.

But that’s getting a little ahead of myself.

When I was a teacher, I had a big dining room table in my classroom. The kids with anxiety often chose to sit there - close to me - utilizing their coping mechanisms. 

When I was young, there was no language to describe the human I was on the inside. As far as I knew, it wasn’t allowed. When the inside me showed on the outside, it made people uncomfortable. So, I kept it hidden. I matched my outside to the environment I was in like a chameleon and held the rest inside - until one day, I broke.

Anxious is the word the modern era has given to people like me. They have fidget toys and weighted blankets now to help us cope with the outward symptoms of the way we feel on the inside. Now you can walk around feeling like a fully integrated human. Mind blown.

When I was young, I was sent to counseling. The determination was that my “problems” stemmed from my environment. Rather than the adult humans in my life addressing the environment they created, as my counselor suggested, they let me believe it was my responsibility.

I was 45 before someone taught me how to cope with stressful environments.

But not before the ball of worry I was carrying caused my back to break. In all fairness, I fell. But I’ve fallen a million times - off bikes, horses and rocks, out of trees and mountains, on skis and rollerblades and by just being a bit of a clutz (my dad nicknamed me Grace). The last straw was that day at the climbing gym when I was terrified but bouldered on - the easiest route in the gym. I thought I knew how to carry my worries, but I cracked under the pressure.

I carried the weight of so much for so long that I had no idea I was carrying it. Let’s remember…it wasn’t normal, it didn’t have a name, and I didn’t know any of that. I just thought it was my fault and my responsibility to manage. 

When I broke my back, I walked to the car. Nobody called the ambulance. Internally I thought that would be too much of a burden, so I didn’t ask for help, and I crawled to a bench and got up. Everyone at the climbing gym watched me. I walked to the door. I rode in a car. All because I didn’t want anyone else to worry. Fuck.

Two weeks ago, I got a massage in trade for an essay I was writing about self-care. The massage therapist dug deep in my back. It took two 90-minute sessions to break the tension. I cannot tell you exactly what I’m worried about because my threshold for discomfort is so high. Things that hurt normal people do not bother me. Simultaneously I am very sensitive.

I love a good energy healer. And let me tell you, this massage therapist/ Reiki practitioner, Kim Masia, has got it going on. She moved the physical manifestation of worry out of my body. Then the stuff on the inside started to bubble up. No surprise. My heart and my stomach were in a knot, too. She knew. But how come I didn’t? She said you have to direct the loving kindness you give to others inward to yourself. And I have taken that to heart, literally.

I spoke all the worries I could think of to the world. I worked my way into a familiar worst-case-scenario situation. I tried to predict everyone’s behavior and made a step-by-step plan to make it all right. 

Then I tried something new.

My next step was merely to pause. And I observed how and where I was feeling without acting. I watched my life unfold most unpredictably. One by one, my worries were resolved (by the actions of others, not my own). Turns out I did not need to worry. It all worked out. Without my help. And so I let my feelings come and go.

Instinctively I try to make my inner world pleasing in an outward way. But I’m learning that when my inner and outer worlds align I can love myself most fully - living with joy rather than suffering. It means accepting that other people might not think I’m pleasing. That is UNCOMFORTABLE for me - but much more enjoyable than being displeasing to myself.

I thought back to one of my earliest memories of being anxious. I threw up peaches at the funeral dinner my mom was hosting. I remember it differently now. I think back to the mayhem that ensued, and I picture my 50-year-old self sitting on the bed, holding my six-year-old self and comforting her while everyone else cleaned up the mess. The thing that brings me to tears is that I know some future version of me, however old, is remembering me at 50, picturing herself holding me tight while I write this letter to you.

May we love every iteration of ourselves as much as the last - worries cast aside singing our outro together - just like Mary Oliver.

“There will be times when standing alone feels too hard, too scary, and we’ll doubt our ability to make our way through the uncertainty. Someone, somewhere, will say, “Don’t do it. You don’t have what it takes to survive the wilderness.” This is when you reach deep into your wild heart and remind yourself:

“I AM THE WILDERNESS.”

Brene Brown

Take the next step.

I truly believe that moving your body can help you move your mind - especially when you feel stuck. On November 2, 2024, (12-2pm) my friend Janice will lead us through the forest and help us connect our minds and hearts in nature.

Would you like to join us? Here is where you can sign up.

I see you. I'm with you. I’m for you.

xo

Meg

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