Fear and Prayer

So I have an anxiety disorder, and with that comes a lot of fear and also a lot of overblown anxiety.  A lot of what I obsess about wouldn’t even be a thought in another person’s mind.  If they did think of it, it would probably flit away with a million of the other thoughts they had in that day.  But my mind is a bit more sticky.  Those things don’t just flit away… at least not without a lot of work on my part.

In general, the things I worry about are unlikely to come to fruition.  Sometimes it is virtually impossible that they would come to be, other times they are merely highly unlikely.  But sometimes, every now and then, a real worry will pop into my head.  Something that could possibly happen.  Something that isn’t a concoction of misfiring neurons deep inside my skull.  Some fear will occur to me that is within the realm of possibility.

And that’s where I find myself today.

Ordinarily on the anniversary of September 11th, I find myself sorrowful, sometimes almost consumed with memories of that day and grief for all of those who lost all of their everything.  But this year is a bit different.  This year I feel fear.  It probably stems from all of the atrocities that have been all over the news over the past couple of months.  Some of us just shouldn’t pay so much attention to the news, I guess.

But for the past week or two, I have found myself getting anxious whenever I thought about today.  I would think of all of those who mean so very much to me.  I imagine their suffering at the hands of evil.  I think of my potential losses, and the grief I would feel.  And most of all, as a mother, I imagine the losses my children could endure.  And that, to me, feels unbearable.

And when I find myself imagining such sufferings, and I feel my hands start to shake and my heart start to pound, I don’t know quite what to do.  Those things are possible.  It doesn’t help to dwell on them, but still, they can’t be dismissed as frivolous or impossible.

And then I was listening to Relevant Radio this morning which is a Catholic talk radio station.  I only caught about five minutes of it, but there was a priest on there who was talking about prayer and how it lifts us out of our Earthly perspectives, and it directs our gaze up and unites our minds with God’s.

And from that perspective, things look a bit different.  The future isn’t seen as tomorrow, it is seen as eternity.  Death isn’t seen as an end but rather a transition.  Suffering isn’t seen as tragedy but rather as something that can lead us to a place much greater.  And we have an access to that perspective through prayer.

To be honest, perspectives like that don’t come easy to me.  For me, it’s more like I find a moment of peace and then instantly something will snatch me right back to my fears.  Fears aren’t an easy prison to break from.  But it’s possible, and it is doable, and it’s in the moments when I can do it that I find the most peace.

I used to always think religion was about Mass and doctrines and not eating meat on Fridays during Lent.  Now I’m finding that those things do have a place, some of them an indispensible place, but I think that it’s also about so much more.  It’s about constantly striving for that unity with God.  It’s about trying to live in prayer.  And it’s about failing time and time again, and standing up time and time again in the hopes that one day we will be united forever.

That perspective isn’t easy for me today.  I find my mind being drawn to evil dressed in black hoods and burning buildings and blood and weeping, but I find that in order or my spirit to survive, that mindset must prevail.  Living in fear does nothing but make us fearful, and that makes us impotent.  And we can’t afford to be spiritual or emotional impotent.  We have one life and we must live it with as much compassion and passion as we can find.  We must savor it and be grateful for it and understand just what a blessing it is.

So I guess I’ll just keep praying for help and guidance and for the hope that someday that mindset will be my home.