Last year, my doctor asked me the 20-question stress quiz...you know the one where the doctor asks, "have you or someone close to you had a serious health crisis, or have you lost a close relative, or have you recently changed jobs? living situations?" etc. More than 4 yes answers or multiple yes answers to the same question...boom! you are under high stress levels.
He stopped after 10 questions, shaking his head, asked, "How are you not on high doses of medication just to get through the day?" I shrugged my shoulders and said that I had no choice.
I, like a lot of us, have been through some pretty rough times. I have had breast cancer, a car accident, changed jobs, lost family and friends to illnesses, moved several times, but had great things happen, too. My kiddos are in good relationships, the birth of two grandchildren, being appreciated in my work and being 3.5 years into breast cancer recovery are all good and wonderful. Yet, good things can contribute to anxiety as well. For me, with my bruised, skeptical heart, good stuff can scare me. I end up waiting for the storm to happen instead of enjoying the sunshine.
In November, right before I moved across country to be closer to my daughter's family, I attended a Gratitude Retreat. In front of a diverse group of what were once strangers, now compatriots in a journey, I confessed my fears. The biggest one was that my cancer would return. I had to face that when everything seemed fine, I was actually scared.
Fear was keeping me from enjoying each day. Fear was a big, grey cloud that I dragged behind me on a leash. When something bad or unpleasant or scary happened, I could point to my pet cloud and say, "See! I knew it!"
By the end of the retreat, I felt less alone and realized fear was not serving me well. I burned the paper where I had written my fears. I can't fully get rid of my fears, but when that cloud creeps closer, I remind myself that I am OK. Now when dark clouds appear on the horizon, I can throw on my Gortex and trail-runners. I know that I will make it through.
I am no longer dragging the cloud behind me...I let go of the string.
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