(Title image: Photo by Merch HÜSEY on Unsplash)
Last week, I met with a friend that I don’t see often. We were talking about what was going on in our lives and he related how he loved where he lived right now, and put a positive spin on everything in his life, even when talking about negative happenings.
He sounded sunny and was handling the tough stuff that came his way.
But then it was my turn to tell him about what I’d been up to. I started describing what I’d been dealing with: my father’s decline and death last year, worries about my mother’s well-being, concerns about the increasing cost-of-living…
My friend smiled at me. The last time he had talked to me, he said, I was stressed about something else. In fact, every time he calls me, there’s some new thing that I’m stressed about.
And of course he’s right. As much as I’ve improved in handling anxiety using all the tools I’ve developed to calm myself down—and, yes, I’ve found success with that—the overarching feeling that I have is that I’m playing whack-a-mole with my worries.
It’s as if I’m trying to regain my footing, but something new comes up and knocks me off balance again.
(Photo by Anca Gabriela Zosin on Unsplash)
After getting past cancer treatments like chemotherapy and radiation, you’d think that the skies would look brighter and my outlook would be more positive. And for quite some time that was completely true.
But as endocrine therapy wore on and I went through menopause, my spirit suffered. The luster of surviving cancer started wearing off. That’s embarrasing to admit, especially when I have lost friends and family to the disease and know of many others desperately fighting it.
But even being aware of that, my day-to-day seems to have become darker overall. I start the day with energy to get things done but by evening I’m exhausted and sometimes overwhelmed by what’s in front of me.
I know some of this is my own doing. In fact, one of the big, scary changes that I was faced with this year just sorted itself out. It was simpler than I expected (note my previous post). And then my son was admitted to the college he wanted to attend. All these are refreshing successes that I should have spent time basking in. But it didn’t take long for the clouds to gather again.
After hearing my friend’s assessment of me, I am trying to figure out whether what I’m going through is really getting harder? Or have I gradually been losing my ability to pull myself out of a funk? And once the uncertainties are settled, will I bounce back?
I feel disappointed in myself, which is exactly part of the problem. Lack of self-compassion simply compounds the stress. You know the carrot-and-stick analogy? Well, I’ve tossed the carrot and am just beating myself with the stick.
Back to the drawing board.
Frantic Shanti 