Anxiety, too

Yesterday in meditation, a crystal clear image came to me of anxiety having at its core a wounded child surrounded by snarling dogs. The feeling of anxiety is the dogs growling and biting and tearing at anything that comes close. They do not and cannot understand that the love and concern being brought is precisely what would heal the child. All the dogs know is that their sole aim, their assignment, is to protect the child, no matter the cost. They are all the more vicious because the child is injured.

I have been lacerated by these dogs over the past few days. In my last post I mentioned how dissatisfied I have become with my current work. I had no intention of doing anything about it quite yet. Remember the scene in the film Roxanne where Steve Martin's character is trying on new noses at the plastic surgeon's, even though he can't have one? To make myself feel better about my work (licking my wounds after another staff meeting), I was trolling the website that lists available internal jobs. I do this in part because I was once told by a wise person that "depression is a lack of options", and it's always good to know there are options out there. But, much to my surprise, one of these jobs stood out to me, all but got up and sang to me. After a few days of not-very-seriously considering it, then going through an agonizing but brief process of internal exploration and vetting with my wife, I applied. Bring on the dogs!

Now, in order to really understand the irrationality of this anxiety, you have to grok a few things: I probably won't get this job (I am both under- and overqualified); though I think it would be a good job to have, I am not so excited about it that I will be devastated if I am not hired; I will continue to have my current job if I don't get it; if this job is offered to me, I can say no to it without any negative consequences; this would be a parallel shift within the same organization and I would see no interruption in pay, benefits, or pretty much anything else. In other words, there really is nothing to worry about.

Tell that to the dogs.

When I spoke with my spiritual teacher, Heather Martin, the other day, one of the things she encouraged me to do is recognize how quickly things change, that what I call "anxiety" is a rapidly shifting kaleidoscope of feelings, images, fears, concerns, vulnerabilities, and reactivity. It is neither constant nor any one thing. She also encouraged me to see that it is not personal, no matter how personal it feels. The image of the dogs helps here, too—they see me as a threat, impersonally. I could be a bear, a wolf, a dinosaur, or a fly, and they would respond the same way. It is also helpful for me to see how the sharp uptick in awareness that comes with the heightened state of anxiety is often ecstatic. My senses are honed and on high alert (a side-effect of the awareness-of-predators system installed by my ancient forebears, no doubt) and I am feeling, seeing, hearing, tasting, and smelling more acutely and it is glorious, in its own unnerving way. One more thing: meditation is very, very helpful because it helps me realize that there is absolutely nothing I can or should do about these feelings. The only thing to do is to allow them to be, to arise and pass away, which all things do, given the chance. 

But I have made myself vulnerable, naked before the dogs, as it were. After 13 years in the same job, I have exposed myself to the scrutiny of strangers. I had to inform my current bosses I was considering a new job, with all the silent recrimination and head-shaking encouragement that comes with that. I'm also worried that they will be relieved I am going, and to a certain extent they probably will be. I can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but more to the point, there is a new regime at the clinic and I am the only old-guard nurse there. I really do think I am standing in the way of the new nurse manager making the clinic over in her own image. Just because I think this will be a mistake is pretty much irrelevant, just an opinion. She is in that position and has a right to do whatever she wishes; I keep resisting her from the stance of someone who has been there longer than just about anyone else (including her). This is not constructive. So leaving might just be the best thing for everyone.

Yeah, well, the dogs didn't get the memo.

I'll keep you posted.

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Went to the farmers market yesterday:

What the hell are these? I forgot to look.

(By the way, I titled this post as I did because I have written on this topic before [here it is, if you want to see]).