Someone recently asked me if I get anxious about anything given that many of my posts are upbeat. You betcha! There were many unspoken questions in that musing. And I could say, “Yes” to all of them in varying degrees. I have become vigilant about helping fears dissolve, but sometimes they do catch me by surprise. Flying under my radar, they overstay their welcome.
It happened just last week. I held a several-week streak of improved exercise and healthy eating. I hoped to see some demonstration of success each morning as I stepped on the scale, but nada. No change. I wasn’t upset, but I couldn’t figure it out. It’s simple math. Increased caloric expenditure plus reduced caloric intake should equal weight loss. Then on this particular morning, I stepped on the scale and saw one less pound register.
Did you just imagine me “whooping”, throwing jazz hands, or air punching out a growly and glorious, “YES!”? None of that happened. I looked at the number and stepped off the scale in silence. I had the sense that I should be happy to have finally gotten what I’d hoped for, but felt not even a blip of satisfaction. I wasn’t sure why.
A couple of hours later, I caught a dark thought crossing my mind. Had I worked hard enough to lose that pound…or could I be sick? In other words, had I lost a pound because I had cancer again? It was a ridiculous thought. I had worked at this, and I hadn’t even experienced weight loss as a symptom when I did have cancer.
Morning turned into afternoon. As I stood at the refrigerator filling a water bottle, I realized my brain was telling me it had found the words. “Unexplained weight loss,” I found myself thinking. “That’s what the term is, the doctors ask if you have ‘unexplained weight loss’.” My mind was still working on “the problem”. It wasn’t really a problem, but it had crept into a recess of my mind that was prepared to tackle it. And tackle it, it would, whether helpful or not.
My weight loss was neither dramatic nor unexplained. It was a perfect case study in slow and explainable weight loss. And friends, don’t you worry about it, because that pound is already back! Still, there I had been. Around dinner time, admitting that the thought hadn’t really left me, I focused on talking myself off the ledge. Unfortunately, I’d lost most of what should have been an uplifting day to that waste of time and energy.
Do I worry about big things like dying? Sure, sometimes. Do I have rational but pointless concerns, like whether the grocery delivery is going to really include what I ordered? Will I still have to drive to the store to pick up another head of broccoli because the one they included isn’t big enough to serve all of us? Yes. Yes, I do. How do I get out of it, you ask?
When I find myself ruminating, I ask myself one of the questions Byron Katie poses in her methodology “The Work”. “Who would you be without that thought?” Who would I be without the thought that I may have fewer years left than I would like? How different would today feel if I enjoyed sitting and reading a book instead of worrying about whether I would have to squeeze in the grocery run when I least want to? When I imagine the person I would be without the disturbing thought – whether big or small – it’s like a weight lifts from my shoulders. I experience what it would be like without worrying about that, and I smile and move on to the beautiful day in front of me.
I can usually tell legitimate concerns from a “glitch” in my thinking, one that draws attention away from enchanting things, and keeps me focused on scary what-if’s. Anxious glitches are rabbit holes leading to an unending stream of worries. Go into one side, and come out the other with an opposite, equally troubling worry. What if cancer recurs? Alternatively, what if it doesn’t recur, and a perfectly good future was wasted by making decisions for a truncated stay on planet earth? The scenarios agitate, but what if none of them are true? How open would the road before us be if we didn’t live these thoughts in our minds, going through the emotions and disruptions, as if they were real?
The only way to win the anxious glitch game is not to play. We can decide in these moments to be the person we would be and will be without those thoughts. We have this day. Let’s not give it away without enjoying it!