Categories: anxiety, stress, work
Date: 08 July 2010 04:38:47
Is probably the thing that most annoys me about my anxiety/depression/stress: the fact that it all comes down to me. The great I takes charge and all is perceived through this filter.
There is, I believe, a place for an analysis of one's actions and behaviours; I am not denying that. What frustrates me is that when I am in an anxious, depressed or stressed mode, "the other", the image and likeness of God I should see in the other, fades into the background and everything is about what I did or what I did not do or what I could do.
Someone once annoyed me by responding, "Stop being a martyr!" to my self-flagellation; and what annoyed me was they were right. Even when I was criticising [overly, in their view] an error I made, my words, my actions, my tone, all conveyed "it's all about me": I did this; Look what it says about me; and so on. Blogging probably feeds this to some extent; but at the same time, through your generosity in reading and commenting, it is a great help as well. Again, as I commented in the comments in my last entry, I feel so blessed to know you, and further blessed in that when I ask for opinions, you are generous in them.
This hit me hard today. I had a brief meeting with two people in which I apologised profusely for everything from my inability to tell the future to decisions that with the benefit of hindsight proved to be not the best option but at the time were the only ones I saw. And as I am saying this I am telling myself, "You were stupid to do this."; "Look what you've done -- created more work for others to clean up your mess now you are leaving."; "Why didn't you do it this way instead?" I know the theory -- do not engage such thoughts; but when it comes to a day when I am feeling fragile already I give in. And I even said I'd try and do something that I doubt I have the time to do -- and I am not sure if I have the knowledge. Merely as I felt bad that I had done some things for a short-term fix that may cause issues during an upgrade; however good my intentions, it upsets me that, even though I was asked by management, and thus needed to comply, I did not do as good a job as I feel I should have: but then again, if I knew back then what I know now...
After the meeting I made an excuse and left the office to head to a local café -- a good coping mechanism: except I kept dwelling. Two friends who I called kept me from too much diving to the depths, but the tears came and came. And, as I left, the two people I had the meeting with came up to visit the same café -- and I escaped, with the barest acknowledgement, as fast as I could back to the office. At which point, after of all things dropping my wallet and having a few coins tumble out on the floor, I burst into tears and told my colleague, after a brief talk with him, I was taking the rest of the day off.
It doesn't help that I have feelings for one of these people: feelings that cannot be reciprocated. For all my 33 years, I think I'm 12 when it comes to relationships: I cannot cope and have no idea how to with the idea I am at times very lonely and want companionship. I say too much one day so I withdraw almost completely and give monosyllabic responses next time. Then I feel guilty and wonder what they must think of me [there's the I again] so I over-apologise in word or e-mail, then I think, "Oh, I've said too much" and back to the monosyllabic responses. A cycle. And I keep feeding it. [Though thanks be to God I've learnt, sometimes, to write the e-mail to get the feelings out then delete it.]
Where is God in all this? Deep down, I know He loves me; and I know, without being proud or indulgent, He loves me for who I am not who I think I should be, and longs for me to know this, with all my being, and longs for me to be in a relationship of love, not of fear, or terror, or servitude, but a relationship of love. The fact is I do not think I am worthy of friendship love, let alone companionship love, so when it comes to the love of God I am stuffed: I know intellectually He must love me, but at the same time wondering how He could love someone so confused and messed up as me. And someone who constantly prays, "Change me!", but falls at the first hurdle of any effort on my part.
But that's the point I suppose: His Love is beyond any notion of Love I may have. And, despite my flaws, my many flaws, I am made in His Image and Likeness, and thus of infinite worth in His eyes. And that, even if I have trouble acknowledging it each day, is what keeps me going and keeps me journeying on: the light of this knowledge, however dim, however meagre on my part, gives me hope that He has a plan for me -- and in fact His plan for me is unfolding each day, and has been unfolding each day since I was born. I may not know where it leads, and I may get frustrated and rant away to Him shaking my fists when I feel I'm on a path leading me nowhere or leading me to places I do not want to go; but, deep down, deep, deep down, I know there must be a purpose to me being here, and cling to the hope of God's Love guiding, changing and moulding me to be ever more and more conformed to His Image and Likeness.