On Anxiety (or, You Just Need To Relax!!!)

First, an admission. Until a couple of years ago, I was the sort of person who rolled his eyes at the thought of taking medication. My dad has extremely high anxiety, and his father before him had a nervous breakdown when Dad was in high school. I dunno if that's learned or genetic or both, but it sure as hellfire and damnation got passed on to me. Back in my wandering days, it manifested mostly as depression since I had no responsibilities about which to be anxious; but once I met Ellie and began trying to be an adult, I suddenly had other people to worry about and could never again fall back on "Well, I know a nice unlocked broom closet in a motel near here" if the rent money got too tight. It makes one fret, you know. On the other hand, it was also Ellie who finally talked me into investigating the medical option. Took me about two years to find one that really works; but boy, does it make a difference. Is it a crutch for my weakness? Sure, I guess you could say that. But at the end of the day, I'd rather admit the flaw and use the crutch than spend my marriage seething with stress and suddenly exploding until I'm more a source of fear than comfort to my wife and daughter.

Here's how I see the logistics. Your soul makes the choices that shape who you are, and those supernatural choices become electrochemical reactions in your brain: matter moved by spirit. (This is tangential, but just digest the fact that every single thought you've ever had is technically a miracle.) Your brain, however, is imperfect. No offense. Some imperfections are your own doing, like getting yourself drunk; some are beyond your control, like tumors or dementia; and some are a little of both, like a vice nurtured to addiction. But they all disfigure the shape cast upon the world by the light shining inside of you. For me, anxiety puts fangs on the face of my soul, and I don't like 'em. I can't speak for everyone, but I have limits to what I can accomplish by sheer will. Sometimes I need help. And also, I was being disingenuous just now. I can speak for everyone: sometimes, everyone needs help. Ultimately, being a Christian means accepting it even more than giving it.

St. Paul exhorts us to have no anxiety at all (Philippians 4:6). Great advice. Real helpful. Right up there with "Be ye therefore perfect, as your Heavenly Father is perfect" (Matthew 5:48). Thanks, Lord! No problem at all. Luckily, it turns out that God is smart. These aren't one-time commands like go do the dishes; they encompass the work of a lifetime. We have Penance because He's well aware that we're not going to be perfect for long stretches at a time. Nor will we always possess the peace of God which passeth understanding—or at least, we won't always "feel" it, in the emotional sense. (One of the most helpful things my old pastor Fr. LaValley ever said to me was that sometimes the Holy Spirit does His best work when you can't feel His presence at all.) Furthermore—if you believe in this sort of thing—anxiety is a favorite tool of the Enemy, and is said to be a possible sign of demonic oppression. Makes sense; God speaks in music and silence, Satan in noise. But every sandbag he throws on our shoulders will just make us stronger when we get to the peak of Mount Purgatory and we finally stand unbowed. What matters for now is the prayer, and the work.

I thought to write this quick little post because a few days ago I had a very brief moment of falling victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous, of course, is never get involved in a land war in Asia. But here's another one: never, ever decide that you suddenly feel better and no longer need your meds. It's a saddening and frustrating thing to have a friend on antidepressants who's finally starting to experience real solace and therefore goes off the very thing that's making it possible, only to find them curled up on the closet floor two days later. I've seen it, and I'm thankful it stayed in my memory. I do feel better, a lot better, these last couple of months. But that don't mean it's time to quit taking medicine, it means the damn stuff is working and it's time to keep taking it. When I got my first pair of glasses, I didn't say, "Hey, I can see! I guess I don't need these glasses anymore!" Believe me, I hope I don't need to be on meds forever. But no matter how hard I try, I can't will my way to 20/20 vision. We prayed for the relief of my anxiety, and behold, we found something that relieves it. If it doesn't come with wings and a thunderclap, can it still be the answer to a prayer? I rather think so. And I will never again roll my bespectacled eyes at the medication that helps me take care of my family.