Whatifland: I don't live there any more

I was just over at Spouse Buzz reading and commenting about arguing with your deployed spouse and regretting it if something were to happen. And as I was on my little sanctimonious stool, I was thinking that I needed to expand a bit on one thing I said: "Whatifland is not my principle residence any more."

I used to be comsumed by my residence in Whatifland. I took pills because I lived there. I had a high-power, high-paying job with a view of a park and a waterway from the 14th floor of a nice downtown buidling in Middleville. But the profession I was in was literally sucking the life out of me. I became depressed without understanding what that was about. I was so anxious about every little aspect of the job that I couldn't function properly (mentally or physically). After suffering for years with this, even with a psychiatrist's prescriptions for 2 SSRIs, I began to doubt myself. Once I doubted my ability, so did my bosses and clients. And it became a self-fulfulling profecy.

One day, I walked in and quit. No plan in mind. I just couldn't take it any more and something dramatic needed to happen. My employer and I worked out an arrangement where I stayed on for 3 months to settle my affairs, transfer my files, and have time to look for something else. (I have to say it, that was the best thing that firm ever did for me. They even paid for career counseling for me.)

I took a temporary job for 5 weeks then started at my current place of employment with Boring Co. In the interim, JD was trying to start his own business and work for the Army Reserves. Money was tight and I went off my meds cold turkey (uh, not recommended). I tried things on my own and was surprised to find life instantly better without the BIG career job. I dropped 10 pounds without really thinking about it. But it was also about this time that JD was beginning to figure out that he was going to eventually head off to Iraq. Life was still stressful.

What if JD dies?

What if JD comes back with PTSD?

What if JD has his legs blown off?

What if the Army Reserve pay system isn't just being late in posting the money and they actually forget about us one day?

It was through someone I met here at Boring Co. that I was able to start moving forward. Through a series of references I met a psychologist, a wonderful woman (I'll call her Lyn) who showed me that I could actually move out of Whatifland.

The psychiatrists I had been to before talked little about my problems and mostly wanted to medicate me. If you have ever been on that kind of medication (SSRIs), you know that it kinda makes you numb. It levels out your moods is a better description, but inside I felt numb. (For example, I was the one who always cried at movies and then on the meds that stopped.) I wanted to feel again, I wanted to be myself again. But I didn't want to live in Whatifland and be consumed by anxiety.

Reflecting back, what Lyn suggested seemed so simple, but I was open to do anything to not feel like I was feeling. She asked my religious background (I answered something like "Christian, but open to all philosophies") and suggested a book by a Buddhist monk. A Buddhist monk? "Open mind, open mind," I had to repeat to myself. I went to the library and checked out Peace is Every Step by Thich Nhat Hanh. Skeptical, I began to read. "Hmmm. This seems awfully cheery." But then I got to a section on conscious breathing and living in the moment, this present moment. Something clicked. I was starting to think less and be more. (Yes, that still sounds odd to me too.) Slowly. And steadily. Consciously and deliberately. I found I was leaving Whatifland. And I was living here and now. That ache caused by years of anxiety that used to be pervasive throughout my body was leaving.

Of course, since I do not live like a Zen master, I must actually think and plan for the future. But I do not dwell there. There is only so much we can control about the future. What I cannot control, I have to let go of. If not, it will consume me and I will be numb again.

I do not consider myself a Buddhist. But I recognize some practical aspects of Buddhism that are a good fit for me. We are all on our own paths. (I didn't actually say that, did I?) Take what works, leave behind what doesn't.

That reminds me, I still need to clean out the basement. Lyn will love that.