Taking anxiety head-on

About a month ago I had a nasty, surprise arrhythmia episode.  This condition is supposed to be exertion-induced, and so I told myself (encouraged by my doctors' advice) that if I avoided exertion, I would be safe.  I have enjoyed a relatively long, problem-free time with no symptoms, and so it shook me to the core to have an episode when I was resting quietly, watching TV.

Since then, I have been coming out from an intense panic-response and adjusting to a higher dose of medication, the side effects of which are very similar to pre-arrhythmia sensations.  It has not been a happy time.

I wish that the doctors had told me up front the whole truth of this heart business.  I should have known better than to gratefully stick my head in the sand and take their word without questioning.  It's similar to when they call pain "pressure," as in "The baby's head emerges with lots of pressure."  It's just a way of speaking that's meant to keep a patient calm, even though the dishonesty is shocking.

Here are the things I wish I had known from the beginning, unpleasant though they might be to know:

1.  No one knows what I have.

2.  Consequently, no one knows exactly how to treat it or what to expect from it.

3.  It is unclear whether it will get better, worse, or stay the same.

4.  Any number of factors, including unknown ones like subtle shifts in body chemistry may affect the regularity of my heart.

Because these truths have been dribbled out to me--mostly deduced by me, because no one wants to tell me--my anxiety about the whole matter washes over me every time I experience a little episode.  And honestly, I can't have that anymore.  I have decided that regardless of the doctors' desire to preserve my peace (?), I need to look this thing straight in the face and deal with it.

I'm shaking to my core, y'all.  This thing is so big to me, so terrifying and so intractable . . . it takes my breath (and my appetite and sleep) away.  But what other choice is there?  If I don't face it directly, I'm not helping myself at all.  I could try to tuck it away again until next time, but that's only setting myself up for more (or worse) anxiety.

I've been thinking a lot about the nature of anxiety and depression lately.  For me, depression has always looked like a choice:  it's like looking over a precipice and seeing what would happen if I just let myself drop into it.  I've been there a few times in my life.  I don't know if it's like that for everyone, but for me, I can see it like a looming thunderstorm, gathering and strong.  I've never chosen it.  Anxiety, though . . . this is the first time that I can see it as a choice, too.

Usually it just sweeps me under and I'm trapped in that horrible hyper-sensitive space.  Juiced-up, on edge, heart flopping and pulse thudding--I can barely choke down food or sleep more than a few hours.  Like an inconsolable infant, unable to do anything but feel my own pain and distress.

But I realized, given the grace from above to see things a bit more clearly, that since I've likely got another 40 years to go, that's a long time to live with Anxiety threatening or storming.  Whatever I can do to beat it back--to not submit to it--I have to, even if it is terrifying to me.  The choice is to face my fear of this condition and this monstrosity in my chest, or to let myself be overwhelmed at any turn by anxiety.  And when I say "whatever I can do," I know better than most that I mean, "whatever he will do for me," or "whatever I can accomplish with the grace he gives me."

One thing I know for sure:  he's right there with me:  "I set the Lord ever before me / With him at my right hand / I will not be shaken."  Through all of this, he has given me the great grace of being present with me and allowing me to be in his shadow.  I'm clinging to him, and hoping that I can believe his strength and presence can overpower my fears.

For now, I thank God that he has answered my prayers to send good people to help me.  I just discovered that the vibrant Franciscan sisters in my town offer counseling, and that's exactly what I need.  I need someone who loves God and serves him to help me to work this all out and figure out what I have to do to get on with the work God has for me.  I know he didn't put me on the earth to be spun about by my emotions.

Why he has allowed this, or what purpose this affliction is meant to serve, I don't know.  I don't know if I need to know or understand that--maybe 20 years from now I can reflect on it.  Today, the task in front of me is to accept what this is, and to make my life into a worthy sacrifice in the face of it.  So help me God.