Falling in and out

And trying to make sense of anxiety

Fellow Ochre Sky writer Ashutosh once mentioned how publishing an essay is like releasing a helium balloon. You don't always feel happy to let the balloon go. I’m full of the same feeling now, and yet I must do it. 

This one has been long coming, and I have written countless variations and drafts. First for me, and again and again, till this one, a few weeks ago, for you too. 

I don't know if it will resonate, but if it does and you'd like to share, I promise to listen. I've felt alone on this, and shame, frustration or guilt hasn't helped at all. So here it is, my little big truth, and a way to write to it and through it, and get somewhere a little different and less lonely. 

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Image by Elisa from Pixabay

I feel restless. Bechain/बेचैन. I've always felt that this word holds it completely, even through my higgledy piggledy Hindi. It even sounds like I'm feeling. Deep discomfort in the body and mind, and a desperate attempt to not spiral down. 

Bechaini. Like my heart wants to gallop out of my body. Suddenly it gets loud and persistent. And I don't know how to make it stop. My attempts to contain it are like taking food away from a hungry baby. The heart protests louder. My mind is more anxious now. 

I wonder what marks the visit today. I slept well. I woke up and exercised, meditated, wrote my morning pages. This is my Holy Trinity to continue as a basic functioning adult. But I know I have slipped a lot. This was only the second consecutive day of getting to all three in the morning in a while. 

Atleast I have the grace to now accept that I continue to slip up on my basic wellness routine, even after knowing how important it's for me. And my occasional missing doesn't stop me from trying to come back, whenever I can. It has taken me nearly 10 years to articulate and absorb the meaning of these two lines for myself. 

The heart protests openly, but other parts of the body also start their silent mutiny. I know, because when I massage my jaw or my ears, I feel the pain they're carrying. My neck is tight, and often takes the longest to calm down. Pins and needles. Fingers and toes going cold. Dizzy for a few seconds. Sudden disoriented feelings. Feeling detached. A circus of symptoms comes and goes. A panic attack goes away in 20 minutes. Sure, but often it has taken me hours or an entire working day to feel calm again. Sleep is my best friend at times. But how to sleep when I'm on the road, working, or in social situations? Dear anxiety, you are a hard friend.  

I say I don't know, but I do have a clue about being anxious today. Even if I don't know the contours of every leaf on this sapling, I know a little about the kernel. I wonder why my anxiety came to me as a plant today. I've only thought of it as a coiled spring before, or an angry person living inside my neck.

Today I can pinpoint a little, and yet so often it’s the sum of many little things hard to clearly specify. Persistent bits and pieces, more anticipatory than real. And yet, so visceral. Real existing bodies inside my body.  

And this has been the turn of the years. Hardly a week without the medley of these feelings. Finding ways to live with and despite it. Writing about it helps me give it some of my own words and phrases, but the practice of being kind to myself and to my anxiety, and finding ways to keep going, remains a lifelong practice.

In all of this, the image of Sisyphus has kept coming back over the years. Falling in new, sometimes deeper holes, I've often felt too tired to pull myself out. What is the point of a little wellness, if I will fall back in soon again? But today I find I only knew his legend superficially. That image of him pushing the boulder up the hill, and restarting eternally as it keeps falling down, came with another new insight I just learnt. 

Despite the repetitive and seemingly futile nature of his task, Sisyphus persisted in his efforts, finding purpose and meaning in the act of pushing the boulder up the hill.

Perhaps this is where I am then, and will continue to be, trying to get more meaning and purpose through the drumbeats of my persisting heart and mind.