Like many of us, my mood waxes and wanes (maybe with the moon), though I hope casual friends don’t sense it. Good friends do, and Betty kept giving me pep talks last night about not expecting to get back to the real me too quickly after the bout with the swollen foot (still swollen a bit) and the fall in the restaurant parking lot. She even brought my garbage cart up because she said I shouldn’t have to do it. One problem with me: I could succumb to that kind of pampering easily. But her reassurances that my funk wasn’t permanent were an enormous help, and I went to sleep last night determined to be happier and more confident today. It worked. I certainly walked better than I had all week.
I’m not sure what caused my funk beyond the lingering foot problems. Monday I was tied in knots when I went to a funeral at a church where I’m unfamiliar with both the building and the worship, but I had a good friend to sort of keep me on an even keel—she too knows me well enough to recognize when I’m tentative, and she cheerfully held out a hand when I stumbled in my self-confidence. Yesterday, when I was in the deepest funk, I stayed home, glued to my computer except for supper. And that may be a part of my problem—I like people around me. Today, however, was another event I dread—a dental cleaning. I need to back off and say I love the hygienist, she never hurts me, she’s cheerful and funny (and thinks I’m funny), and if I’m tentative she’ll walk me back and forth to my car. I came away with a clean bill of dental health—except for those blasted blueberry stains. She laughed aloud when I said blueberries were in season: “As if I couldn’t tell,” she said. I think a childhood fear of the dentist office lingers. Dental technology is so changed and improved, but it’s hard to erase those early memories.
Other people go to funerals and dentists without getting their panties all in a wad, or maybe they fight internal battles that I don’t see. But I wish anxiety would just go away, and then I think of all the people, even in my small world, whose problems are so much greater. I think I should just gut up and forget it.
I’m of two minds about anxiety—the more you think about overcoming it, the worse it gets; on the other hand, it takes a conscious effort to drag yourself to a more positive place. One thing I know: it waxes and wanes. I think it’s waning right now.
Tomorrow? A haircut, always a cheering event.