anxiety
foggy drive: an extended metaphor
For a short period in my life, I faced one big change after another after another. When I considered further changes in fall 2020, my therapist said to me, “Laurie, stop.”
While being too resistant to change is unhealthy, it can also be unhealthy to believe external changes are going to make things better internally. To be fair, many of my big changes were 100% necessary as I responded to situations beyond my control and worked to prioritize my relationships with my kids while also taking care of myself. And some of my recent big changes (my mom dying; my kids both being in college; me living alone) have just been life continuing the way it does.
Still, I listened to my therapist. I resisted big changes.
That’s the point when I began the Laurie Project blog series in fall 2020, when I was on a hiatus from dating and I had started a new job several months prior and I was spending time and energy getting myself in order. I created stability through healthy daily routines. Those routines continue.
I’m happy.
Still, I feel nervous when I think about my future. I don’t know the geographic region where I’m going to be living in five years. I don’t know the job I’ll be in (I love my current job, but it’s a stepping stone kind of position rather than something people do long term). I don’t know if I’ll be in a relationship with someone in five years.
That is a lot of instability to be facing.
I regularly feel anxious about these unknowns, and I’m trying to be honest about those feelings since one of my patterns has been to ignore hard feelings. And ignoring hard feelings doesn’t make them go away, it just makes them way harder to deal with. Also: these feelings are valid. It’s hard to have so much that is in flux. It makes it hard to settle in, put down roots, make some long-term plans.
That brings us to my Friday commute. The morning of fog.
***
Friday was crazy foggy, and my commute is mostly on back roads that curve through farmlands. About halfway to work, I started feeling incredibly lucky that I could follow the taillights of the car in front of me. Many mornings I don’t see another vehicle for long stretches, but on this particular morning, I had the benefit of guiding lights. And I knew it made my drive easier.
Still, I reflected, I really couldn’t see very far. I just followed one car and then another as we rounded one curve, and the next tiny stretch of road would reveal itself, and the next tiny stretch, and so on. We drove like that, unable to see what was up ahead even when the road straightened, just trusting that as we moved forward, the way would reveal itself. And it did.
I know the way to work, and I had no doubt of where I was heading even though the visibility was so poor.
My whole body relaxed as I felt grateful for the car lights ahead and reminded myself that I’m lucky to be on familiar roads and a route I know well. I noted how beautiful my surroundings were. There’s a way fog adds mystery…and maybe something like possibility?… to a landscape that is otherwise familiar. I may have been singing along to music? I was at peace.
And my mind and heart went to my anxiety about my work situation—loving where I am yet also wanting to be in a place where I have a sense of long-term stability. The drive, of course, felt like a metaphor. Yes, I’m anxious to know what’s next. And, in the meantime, I need to trust that I’m on the right path because, while I cannot see what lies ahead, I do know where I’m headed—to the next stages in my career where I can empower people through higher education, whether directly or indirectly. I can be honest: That destination is more nebulous than driving to my workplace. Still, the feeling of trusting that things will reveal themselves in good time? That seems like something I can hold onto.
I also have a lot of guiding lights as I figure out my professional path—friends, mentors, colleagues, family. As each part of the roadway reveals itself, I’m never alone.
As I shared my foggy morning reflection with a good friend, we realized it applies to so much more than my professional path. It also has to do with relationships, and sometimes all we can do is let things reveal themselves in time. I might want to know what all parts of my life will look like in five years, but I can’t. The decisions I make now have to be based on what I know now, the time and energy I have now, and my current priorities.
And we also reflected together that even when we think we know where we’ll be living, what we’ll be doing for work, and what our relationships will look like in five years, we really don’t. We are always moving forward in a fog to some extent. Just some mornings are foggier than others, and some destinations are less clear than others.
Once I posted these pics, I started thinking about this second one, taken on campus after I had arrived at work and was walking to my building. So let’s keep extending the extended metaphor.
Even when I know what my next professional stage will look like and the geographic region where I can settle, that doesn’t mean that I have fully arrived. No, even after parking my car Friday morning, I took a walk across the foggy campus, making my way forward, choosing which path to take, knowing where I was ultimately heading, and trusting I would find my way…
…while fully enjoying the shroud of mystery, the short journey to my office, and the brief time I spent stopping to document it.
New (academic) year resolutions
#1
TAKE A DAY OFF FROM WORK. EVERY. SINGLE. WEEK.
Believe it or not, this one will be tough for me. And I haven’t committed to this goal over the summer. While I was on vacation and had spotty wifi, I felt really anxious. I like feeling productive, I like accomplishing tasks, I like going to bed without feeling like anything is hanging over my head. A little bit of productivity each day of vacation helped me enjoy vacation more. 
So I may find that I change this resolution. I’ll pay attention and see how it goes, and if I end up deciding that I like to work every day, I’ll simply limit my work to 1-3 hours on two days of the week.
#2
Continue journaling, at least 4 days a week.
I began journaling on July 29 after reading a sermon my friend Jill Wetzel wrote about her experience adopting habits described in The Miracle Morning by Hal Elrod. I loved Jill’s sermon and her take on the advice (even though I tend to dislike self-help books and my quick sampling of Elrod’s book proved that this one was no exception…a topic for another post). 
My journaling is a way of paying attention to what my priorities are, what my goals are, and what I’m doing with my time.
The other inspiration for my journaling comes from a study I participated in. I completed a time log for a week, noting my time spent on activities for every waking hour (and regularly smaller increments of time as my attention shifted from one activity to another). The study was run by Dr. Christine Tulley for a book project on writing habits of academics who are moms, and it really made me pay attention to all the tasks I accomplish that don’t get “counted” (by me or by others).
I’ve journaled every day for a month, and here are some of the specific habits that I’d like to continue:
- Plan a reasonable number of tasks. My tendency is to plan more than I can accomplish. That became noticeable as soon as I started journaling, and I’ve been more careful to set myself up to succeed rather than overwhelm a day with more than it can bear (or more than I can do—more accurate phrasing!). I also notice more when something like “clean up paperwork in office” takes about ten times longer than I initially believe. Now I know. Because I’m paying attention and adjusting my expectations accordingly.
- Write what you’ve accomplished each day. I put check marks and stars and smiley faces and words like “YAY!!!” next to the items I’ve
accomplished, depending on how excited I am about them. I know people write about adding items to their list of things to do in order to cross items off, and it feels like cheating. My version is inspired by that time log idea—give myself credit for what I’ve done, whether it aligns with my initial plans or not. - Include time spent responding to emails on list of tasks and/or daily accomplishments. This kind of communication is what often becomes invisible, to me and to others. I accomplish an unbelievable amount through email, and I need to start giving myself credit for that work.
- Include personal tasks with my daily goals. Time for exercise is way more likely to happen if I plan when it will happen. And time for exercise, reading, watching TV, hanging out with family members, buying groceries, and so forth—well, it all becomes more of a priority if I plan on spending my time in those ways and, even if not planned, I give myself credit for time well-spent when listing my daily accomplishments. If I find that I make time for everything except watching TV, it’s a sign that I’m so wrapped up in the needs of others that I’m not taking care of myself. I know that sounds ridiculous to anyone who watches too much TV, and maybe one day that will be my problem. But right now my problem is that I feel guilt when I know of needs that I’m not trying to meet. I need to start feeling guilt when I’m not good enough to myself. Vegging out in front of a TV screen twice a week, watching what I want to watch rather than something a family member has chosen…well, that’s a good habit for me to cultivate.
- Continue to notice times of anxiety and stress. Maybe at this point you don’t even need to solve anything. Maybe just noticing for awhile is enough. <– It’s so funny that I just shifted into second person there. I’m talking to myself! Journaling has helped me notice patterns already, and I haven’t really figured things out fully, but I like the idea of letting the anxiety/stress happen, allowing myself to experience those feelings, and writing down what I notice. (Credit to my colleague Jane Collins for helping me think about my tendency to want to just get rid of anxiety, which may lead to me distracting myself so I don’t notice it as much.)
#3
Achieve a zero-inbox across both personal and professional email accounts at least once each day.
I think I’m going to aim for 3:00pm, but I may adjust this time. We’ll see. This habit is inspired by the book Bit Literacy, and I use Trello (an electronic way to organize information recommended by my colleague Rob Mundy) to keep track of ongoing to-do 
lists. That way I can archive emails rather than use any part of my email account as a “to-do” list.
I’ve done this off and on with my work email, but I never extended it to my personal email until a few weeks ago. I’m all over it now. This one is a life changer.
#4
When I have spent 8 hours or more working on a single day, I’m allowed to take time off, even if more work is pending.
I tend to think of work in terms of what needs to be done instead of time spent working. Since there is always more to be done, it’s difficult to shut off. This resolution is a way of giving myself permission.
The reality is that some times I will work far more than 8 hours in a single day because sometimes work is more intensive—at the start of the semester, at advising time, at the end of the semester, when grading piles up, and when I have projects due. That sounds like all semester, doesn’t it? Lol. But it really isn’t. I often have several days at a time during the semester that are less intensive. I’ll try to notice the peaks and valleys of work as I journal.
The corollary is that it is okay to work fewer than 8 hours some days. That doesn’t mean I’m a slacker. It means I’m keeping myself healthy so that I can cope better during times of working very long days, which often happens for weeks at a time.
At any rate: I would tell any of my colleagues that it is okay to stop working after 8 hours. I deserve the same courtesy.
What is bizarre is how uncomfortable I feel with this way of thinking. I guess this anxiety is something to keep an eye on. It seems related to my vacation revelation that I’m happier and more relaxed when feeling like I’ve accomplished things. I guess I need to keep shifting “taking care of mental and emotional health” to the list of things to be accomplished! I crack myself up. This all seems so silly as I write it.
***
Four resolutions. I like them. They seem concrete enough and manageable enough. And if they don’t work out, I’ll think about why and shift my habits or shift the resolutions accordingly.
This was an excellent use of my Wednesday morning. First day of school is a week from today. I’m now looking forward to it even more than I already was!
Selling my home with St. Joseph
I’m moving this summer. I’m moving whether I sell my current home or not, but everything will be easier and better if I sell my current home before I move.
I have a wonderful home in a great neighborhood, and we clean it well before each showing, and we’ve kept it in good shape all eleven years we’ve lived here. It’s priced reasonably, based on the local market. We’ve had eight or nine visitors who’ve looked at it, but we haven’t yet had an offer. The anxiety is building.
My neighbor Barb was the first person to suggest burying St. Joseph in the front yard. Near the “For Sale” sign. Upside-down. Facingthe road, not the house.
The advice has been repeated many times, by many people, usually accompanied by a story about someone getting a good offer three days after burying St. Joseph. Yes, three days. Not two, not four. Three.
And occasionally people will tell stories of St. Joseph being buried incorrectly. In these cases, the house takes a long time to sell. A long, excruciating time.
When I first heard the advice, I thought I’d do it. If you know me, you might be wondering why. I was raised Catholic but am now Unitarian Universalist, and I don’t even know whether I believe in god. I don’t generally pray to saints. Even when I was Catholic, praying to saints was not my thing. And my family and friends from outside of Northeast PA would be likely to laugh and scoff rather than suggest something like buying and burying St. Joseph.
But I liked the idea of using a ritual common in my local community to transform my anxiety into something else—a kind of trust or faith that things would work out. Put another way, it was about letting my anxiety go, allowing St. Joseph to take it away because it has been doing me no good, and it certainly doesn’t help with selling a house.
I didn’t act on it right away, but I finally made a point of finding St. Joseph after my friend Jill told me the place to go to purchase St. Joseph was in Dunmore, on Drinker and Chestnut. Sure enough, when I parked near the cupcake shop on Chestnut, a small store called Building the Kingdom of God was right around the corner.
I went in the store and glanced around just a bit as I made my way to the woman at the counter. “Can you tell me where I might find…” 
The woman was smiling before I even finished my sentence: “…a little St. Joseph to help me sell my house?”
“I have to tell you,” she says, “every single person asks for St. Joseph in the same way.” She holds her fingers in imitation of my hand gesture. “It’s like it’s the universal sign for St. Joseph.”
Ah. You see? The community element that appeals to me is a real thing. We speak a universal language when it comes to St. Joseph.
The woman notices that the usual counter of St. Joseph home-selling kits has been emptied, but she goes to the back room and returns with one for me and several to set out on display. We chat as she takes care of the inventory and begins ringing me up.
“Do customers let you know if it works?”
“Oh, yes. I hear a lot of stories. But let me tell you,” she says, “people think it’s all about burying St. Joseph, but it’s not.”
Huh. 
“First, what’s most important is that you get St. Joseph blessed. Second, you need to say the prayer. It’s the prayer that matters. Burying? That’s just a tradition. But prayer—that’s the answer.”
“Where do I get St. Joseph blessed?”
“Well, you can ask your parish priest. But if he won’t do it, just take it down to St. Joseph’s. Do you know St. Joseph’s, right down the hill?” I nod. Some of my students have done community service work there. It’s a center that helps people with a variety of needs. “Just go to the door and ask one of the retired priests to bless it. They’ll do it for you. Or sometimes they’re sitting outside and you don’t even have to go to the door.”
I pay for St. Joseph and the woman asks for my first name to add to their prayer list. I loved that woman. She took very good care of me.
I stopped for cupcakes on the way back to my car, and as I drove to meet friends, I thought about the blessing. My inner dialogue went something like this:
Laurie 1: “You aren’t going to go out of your way to ask a priest to bless St. Joseph, are you?”
Laurie 2: “No. I definitely don’t feel comfortable with that.”
Laurie 1: “Well, couldn’t you just go ahead and bless St. Joseph yourself? Don’t you believe that people can communicate directly with god without going through some intermediary?” (Notice that my inner dialogue didn’t include any doubt about god existing. I cannot explain that.)
Laurie 2: “Maybe I could. That would certainly make life easier. But isn’t that a little arrogant—thinking that I have the power to bless St. Joseph?”
Laurie 1: “Well, if it were someone else you wouldn’t find it arrogant, would you? because you do believe that each person is part of the divine, each person is sacred. If you believe it of other people, you should believe it of yourself, too.”
And the matter was settled. I would be the one to bless St. Joseph. But after my resolution, I still found myself driving around St. Joseph’s Center to see if a priest was sitting outside. If there had been one, I would’ve stopped and asked for the blessing. But there wasn’t.
I headed to work where I was meeting friends to go out to lunch, and as luck would have it, two more friends joined us. We carpooled, and Mary Ann ended up in the front passenger seat while I drove. Mary Ann, I should mention, is a nun. I pointed to the bag holding St. Joseph, and she picked it up.
“St. Joseph,” she said, “I’m sorry you’re being used for commercial purposes. But my friend Laurie is feeling stressed about selling her house, and she’s trying to take care of her family, so I’m sure you can understand and are willing to help her out.”
That’s my paraphrase. I’m sure it’s a little off because I was driving rather than taking notes. But inside I thought, “I believe St. Joseph is now blessed.”
When I got home later that day, I took St. Joseph out of his box and read the prayers that came with him.
I then did internet research to think through the burying options. Three things happened during this internet research that led to my decision about what to do next.
- I found many conflicting directions about how to bury St. Joseph, so that made the task trickier.
- I also read some testimonials from home-sellers who prioritized large profits in their transactions. That kind of greed didn’t feel right to me. Is this why I was going to bury St. Joseph?
- I finally read the following prayer, and my decision about burying St. Joseph became more clear:
I wish to sell this [house/property] quickly, easily, and profitably and I implore you to grant my wish by bringing me a good buyer, one who is eager, compliant, and honest, and by letting nothing impede the rapid conclusion of the sale.
Dear Saint Joseph, I know you would do this for me out of the goodness of your heart and in your own good time, but my need is very great now and so I must make you hurry on my behalf.
Saint Joseph, I am going to place you in a difficult position with your head in darkness and you will suffer as our Lord suffered, until this [house/property] is sold. Then, Saint Joseph, i swear before the cross and God Almighty, that i will redeem you and you will receive my gratitude and a place of honour in my home.
(full version found here)
Ugh. If I hadn’t read this prayer, I would’ve been able to bury St. Joseph in a respectful ritual; I probably would’ve even buried him upside-down. But now that I read it, I couldn’t divorce the burying (especially upside-down burying) from a kind of torture: Do what I want, St. Joseph, or you’re gonna be stuck upside-down in the ground! You will suffer like Jesus on the cross until my house sells, so hurry it up already!
Can you imagine? That would feel worse than the regular anxiety of waiting for my home to sell. I just cannot torture a saint to bribe him to make something happen. It has bad karma written all over it—instant karma more than anything, because there’s no way I could feel peaceful while torturing a saint.
Yeah, I know it’s a statue made in China, and it’s not actually a person or a saint. But he’d been blessed, and he’s standing in for the person / saint, so bad energy and torture and that twisted prayer are a bad way to go no matter how you slice it.
Once I knew I would not be burying St. Joseph, I felt better. I have had a few people worry about my decision since then, with a kind of certainty that it’s all meaningless if I don’t bury St. Joe. But I believe there’s a way of respecting a community ritual while also making it your own. If you’re going to do any ritual involving a saint, you gotta find a way to do it with integrity or it’s bound to fail, burying or no burying.
Back to that night. My statue was blessed, my prayers were said, my research was conducted, my decision made. I was ready to complete the ritual.
I held St. Joseph as I walked through rooms at the front of my house, looking for a good spot for him. I found one. I stood on a chair to put him in place, and there he sits. Or stands, rather. St. Joseph is looking out the window, inviting people into this home the way he wishes his family had been welcomed when Mary was big with child. And he’s looking out to the place where my family will head when we move. He stands between the old and the new with his values of hard work and care of family.
I think of my love of manger scenes as I look at him. Until now, I thought it was all about the way babies are celebrations of life and reminders that we must care for one another. But maybe it’s also about Joseph. It’s about adults who are vulnerable, looking for homes, trying to take care of young ones, working to build things for the future, trying to resist greediness, anxious about all that cannot be controlled. It’s about adults who don’t have it all figured out, but we do the best we can. We turn to one another and care for one another.
St. Joseph is in my window, and I may leave him or I may take him to my new home. Either way, he’s about more than relieving anxiety and he’s more than a magic trick to make my life easier. He’s a reminder of what mattered to him and what matters to you and me today, still. It’s the universal St. Joseph, the language that we all speak, the motion that makes the woman at the Christian shop smile.
Laurie Mac Reads 