The Illness of Our Age

 

I was recently talking with a friend whose teenage kid struggles with anxiety.

He has major social anxiety that affects his interaction with peers.

She said that he sometimes couldn’t go on a walk with her

Without being on high alert for bears.

I asked if she meant literal or figurative bears.

She said both.

Literal bears could cross their path,

But the figurative bears of peers could cross their path as well.

 

Shortly after talking with her,

I received a text from another friend whose teenage kid struggles with anxiety.

The kid, weary from her struggles, had reached the point where she wanted medical help.

She was afraid, however, that she wouldn’t know how to function

If the medication took away the anxiety that had become her norm.

I told my friend that I completely understood, and

I shared the letter that I had written to my anxiety a few months ago.

 

A few days after that,

I was talking with Amelia The Niece about The Boxcar Children books.

I like listening to The Boxcar Children books because they always end well.

They provide just enough mystery to keep me engaged 

But enough predictability not to cause me major stress. 

That conversation led us to talk about 

Just how much times have changed since the books were written.  

There is an innocence to the books that doesn’t exist today.

Today, we question everything and imagine the worst in everyone and every situation.

Today, we live in a culture of fear. 

 

As I recounted these conversations to Joe The Counselor,

I went from being glad that I could provide Joe with an updated metaphor for anxiety–

A bear instead of a tiger–

To being amused at just how riled up Amelia got when talking about how Henry, the oldest Boxcar child, should have scouted out his grandfather before taking his younger siblings to live in the woods where they might not have been able to find food and water–

To being filled with emotion when talking about someone else being afraid of the void that would be left if anxiety disappeared. 

In fact, I was so full of emotion that I started crying uncontrollably and had to stop talking for a moment.

All of the compassion that had been building in me overflowed and I wept.

 

I wept for all who struggle with debilitating anxiety–

I wept for all who must watch persons struggling with debilitating anxiety–

I wept for all who struggle with fear–

I wept for all who must watch persons struggling with fear–

I wept for helpless–

I wept for overwhelmed–

I wept for sad–

I wept for abused–

I 

Just

Sat

And 

Wept.

 

When I finally caught my breath,

Joe asked how I felt.

I said I felt a little better…

But the anxiety for anxiety was still a weight in my chest.

 

Oh God: Anxiety is the illness of our age. So many of us walk around tense, shoulders up, afraid of bears, yet afraid to live without what we know. But you offer peace. Help us to find that peace, somehow, in the midst of it all. Help us to find rest, strength, and courage. And help us to be grateful for the persons in our lives who provide nourishment, safety, and comfort along the way. Thank you for those people, God. And thank you for therapy and medicine and all the tools you have given us to face the world. Amen.