Anxiety

It's increasingly evident to me that my relationship with anxiety is anything but logical, getting worse with age in some respects while simultaneously easing in others. Recently, in the early hours around 1:15am, our house alarm went off with that lovely piercing sound we all love to hear at that time.

Like anyone, I've prepared for these kind of situations. I've ensured the things that would assist me in self-defense are readily accessible. But as the alarm pierced throughout the house, half unconscious, the thought crossed my mind: "it's either an intruder or a door or window sensor had fallen off." My gut told me it was likely the former, an intruder.

Oddly though, my actions didn't align with my believed reality. I wasn't afraid, I didn't panic, all knowing considering our home's setup, false alarms are nearly impossible. Despite the reality I’d convinced myself of, fear remained elusive. Instead, I merely grabbed my phone, wrong weapon, and ventured naked into the living room to confront whatever awaited me.

And there it was, before my eyes, the back door, coming from the garage, was wide open. All the sensors securely intact, confirming that it wasn't a fallen sensor that caused the alarm to sound. I stood there realizing it had to be an intruder or some other unaccounted-for event. Still, I remained calm, mostly just confused, phone in hand, more concerned with getting the alarm turned off so it didn't freak out the kids.

I closed the door and did a thorough search of the house, turning up nothing. I have a lot of practice searching every nook and cranny in the house at night because of our family hide and seek nights. The most plausible explanation now seemed that we'd left the door unlocked and a gust of wind had nudged it open. This is despite the fact that both garage doors were closed, leaving me still confused on how this might have happened.

Confusion still intact, I went back downstairs and checked on the kids, still sound asleep, before slipping back into bed, all without a single question from my wife. I laid there, unable to go back to sleep, speculating about the possibility that someone still might be in the house. The sounds coming from the living room began to stoke my anxiety, so I decided to do another search. Nothing. The house was as empty.

I got back in the bed and looked into our alarm's history on my phone, it confirmed one thing: I never heard the motion sensor go off that should have prior to the door alarm that sounded. There would have been a different progression of alerts if that door would have been breached by someone. I was able to piece a timeline together and be absolutely confident no one broke in. The only conclusion that made sense was we forgot to lock the door, and somehow the wind opened it. My anxiety should have evaporated at this point, but it lingered, intensifying over the next five hours. Maybe this is what Robert Greene means when he says that our anxieties stem from our consciousness of mortality? Maybe, because at this point, there was no reason to have anxiety, my family was safe.

As a man, you desire to be the protector of your family, to be strong, to be brave. While my decisions on how to protect can definitely be questioned in that moment, I was ready and able, no fear, no panic. At the same time, even in the ego of man, there is a real awareness of how little control I had. This does not mean we excuse ourselves from planning, preparing, and being ready in a moment, but we don't control when or how those moments will come. As I layed there, a list of things began to scroll within my mind that I cared about, but realized I had very little, if any control over. That night, anxiety flourished.

I know the Bible well, I know to be anxious about nothing, and pray about everything. I prayed. I know what some of the great theologians and the best philosophers say, yet, even with that knowledge, I was still riddled with anxiety that night. This is what makes being human so difficult at times, in that moment, not only did I realize the many things I have no control over, I even realized I had no control over the anxiety I was feeling.

I don't understand it, I don't like it, but I am trying to just accept it as something I deal with in my humanity. I am a logical thinker, and the anxiety I experience in some moments do not align with the reality of the moment, which is why it doesn't make sense. The anxiety came after I knew everything in the house was ok. In the moment I was unsure of our safety, I experienced no anxiety, and had a very nonchalant approach to perceived danger. What's with that?

I am at a place now in my life where I am trying to really embrace that I have choices, I make decisions, and equally true, I control very little. This includes the very breath in my lungs. And one day unbeknownst to me, it will all end, and I have very little if any control over that. But while I am still here, I do question why is it that our anxiety comes and goes like the wind, seemingly making no sense when it arrives? How is it that this invisible force influences our emotions and perceptions, even when in this example, there was no real threat? I am beginning to believe my anxiety has everything to do with an awareness of a lack of real control of the many things in life we think we control, and accepting that I believe is where peace can be found.