Last night, I had run to the potty diarr&$@. It's possible that I could, in part, blame the brownies. Yes, for the first time in sixteen months I baked and ATE brownies thanks to a King Arthur gluten free mix--all hail King Arthur.
Also it could have been my near head on collision in the alley with my very crazy neighbor. Insane red head never even glanced my way when I swerved into the driveway and grass of our neighbor.
Maybe it was because my favorite team lost Beach Flip. They seemed arrogant; but, I loved their house.
I woke up several times in the night with that awful gurgly gut. Wasn't gluten. Wasn't adrenaline. Wasn't loss.
It was school.
Annie Beth wasn't with me, she was at her father's. I tried to convince myself the anxiety stemmed from my stellar mothering skills. "Of course, Lori. You're so intuitive--what you are feeling is for your daughter." That's partially true. I'm no different than the other million mothers that are concerned for their children. But, she came by to drop off her suitcase this morning and she was at ease and ready for 8th grade. Hmmmm....
This in the gut anxiety was mine. I STILL get first day of school jitters. I'm 50 years old and I'm still worried about where to sit in the cafeteria. Will I remember my locker combination? What if I lose my schedule, can I get a replacement from the office?
WHAT IN THE WORLD IS WRONG WITH YOU???? YOU HAD YOUR LAST FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL IN 1986!!!
Now that I've listened to the ever present critic within AND given more time to the sane voice of experience and reason, I am learning a few things that might be helpful.
Fear is powerful. Our limbic brain is unaware of time or space. The same fear that was there in kindergarten can be there at 50. I'm talking about the very same feeling. The good news, though is that now that I have some better tools in my box, I can choose better responses. Without thinking, here are my go-to anxiety "management" tricks
1. go in the kitchen and polish off the last half of that pan of brownies. I told you King Arthur deserved praise.
2. sleep all day until it's time to pick up Annie Beth from school.
3. run around buying things I don't need.
4. find a way to blame my wasband.
Here's what I did instead.
*named the anxiety
*owned it as mine.
*admitted that I don't like change.
*reminded myself of what I already knew....
That was then. This is now.
I graduated from high school and college. I have taken graduate classes. I loved most every aspect of those educational years. I found ways to be competent and successful without a working knowledge of Algebra 1 or 2 or subtracting long numbers in my head. Duh. Calculators.
Beyond that, I know now, that all of life is an education. I will never have all the answers. It's not possible. It's not even my job. My job is to love and be loved.
Not a small task.
Or an easy one.
Or one that I'm capable of doing on my own.
So today, I will work for thera-LINK. I'll scratch down ideas about ways to make a service of helping others more available. I'll get those contact's name on a spreadsheet.
I'll look at all the first day of school pictures on Facebook and marvel how much they've all grown.
I will read a post from Anne Lamott and wish I wrote like her. I will read some of Kelly Corrigan and wish I wrote like her. AND I will spend time writing my thoughts and be glad that I wrote and honed the skill of writing well.
I will open my heart up to the possibility of new relationships and developing a group of people interested in loving well and integrating that with an inclusive faith.
I will follow through and post this for the public. My deep insecurities of acceptance stopped me from writing after I received mean spirited criticism over a year ago.
I'll greet Annie Beth and be ready to be fully present as I hear about her first day of 8th grade. I'll remind myself, that it's her life, not mine. I just get to be a guide along the way--one that loves her more than I know how to express.
