You Probably Think I've Lost It Completely

The anxiety was heavy, entwining me in its suffocating tendrils, making every breath an excruciating effort. Panic struck every time the doorbell rang or a car slowed in front of the house. Paranoia and depression were winning and my ability to fight was waning.

I laid down in bed, trying to reason with myself the way the therapist taught me. I focused on a few positive things, working to turn it all around. Talk myself into some fitful sleep if possible.

In a moment, for no particular reason, it all (and by "all" I do mean "everything") turned inside out. I saw clearly my relative size in the universe. Then, for the first time in a month, I laughed. Hysterically laughed to the brink of tears and eventually giggled myself into an incomparably deep, restful sleep.

Some people might call it enlightenment (I am probably one of those people). Others might call it God or Allah or Yahweh. All I know is that I keep laughing at the most mundane things. A few days ago I was overcome with joy as I washed my hands, the water delightfully flowing through my fingers. In all the Universe, this is the place where I get to reside, and it is beautiful. My family, my marriage, all the critters that like to visit our yard, the people we know and even the ones we don't know but with whom we cohabitate on this lovely little planet--it feels like an exquisite secret.

Along with all of this inner peace (who knew?) and joy (what am I, a televangelist now?), has come an increased sense of morality, based on treating my fellow earth-inhabitants well. (Whoopsie, there goes my lucrative televangelism career with the word "earth-inhabitants.") The effect of my newfound perspective is quite the opposite of what I once expected it to be. You would think that when you grasp exactly how tiny and inconsequential you are, you would take your actions/behaviors/thoughts less seriously. In fact, part of what I laughed myself to sleep about that night was how ridiculously seriously we humans take ourselves when we are indeed so small. What I realized, though, is that we are entirely serious about the wrong sorts of things and end up choosing to dwell in misery far more often than we should. We draw up arbitrary divisions between ourselves and other beings until we box ourselves into these tiny, lonely, miserable little prisons called, "me." Somehow, seeing our stature in the grand scheme of things has made it all the more important to treat others with love, forgiveness, and kindness.

I can focus on those things that separate me from others, or I can embrace the things that make us the same. I can wallow in sorrow over him being in harms way on the other side of a huge planet, or I can bask in the comfort of finding a partner whose love for me is without fail. I can worry about the uncertainty of our future or I can enjoy the water flowing through my fingers.

Staying away from the rabbit hole of fear, panic, anxiety and paranoia has gotten a little easier. I still have to remind myself to breathe every now and then. Another time I laughed recently was when I realized that I was holding my breath, but there would be air available for my consumption whenever I decided to breathe again. The tension in my shoulders and above my eyebrows melted away as the air filled my lungs.

Choosing to focus on beauty is not an effort to ignore pain. But I absolutely cannot forsake the beauty of this moment for fear of pain in the moments to come. That one day in my future I will again experience breathtaking, excruciating, unthinkable, nearly unbearable pain is a given (unless, of course, I am next in line to shuffle off this mortal coil and it happens in a painless way, if that's even possible.) I've learned to allow myself uninhibited moments of joy in spite of my certainty of that future suffering. I hope with practice those moments grow into minutes and then maybe even bigger until embracing the beauty of this human experience becomes second nature rather than a concerted effort.

And no, kids, I haven't been hitting any sort of wacky weed, prescription mood enhancers, or other mind/mood-altering substances. I miss my husband terribly and want nothing more than for him and my little Heavy Duty to come home to me. In the meantime, however, I'm going to enjoy the hell out of washing my hands, taking deep breaths, and soaking up the divinity of being human.