It started maybe thirty years ago, when I was living in Toronto (where I am heading tomorrow). I began to dislike leaving home. Not agoraphobically, as in leaving the house. But going on extended trips out of town away from wherever I was living. Even to return to my Original Thirteen Colony turf and my family. Even on a vacation. I got anticipatory separation anxiety about leaving my den.
And it's been that way ever since. It's not about flying. Hell, tomorrow is a 9/11 anniversary and I am flying on that very day. I flew to NY for the Thanksgiving after the original 9/11 (I wasn't scared; I was hypervigilant --as was everyone--and angry and hoping some Mohammadan tried something so I could rip his throat out and feed it to pigs*.) No, it's about separating from the familiarity of home. I get nervous stomach, tense, tight in the chest, etc. Once I'm on my way to the aiport, though, it's gone.
This trip tomorrow will be different. B and I used to keep track of each other's plane travels. And he sometimes took me to or picked me up at the airport --airport transport is something he inexplicably hates to do; it was a special favor to me -- or at least at the BART station. We had a very technologically thick relationship. Exchanged 8500 emails in three years; that averages out to a dozen a day. He really used to be my companion on them, via cellphone (calls, texts, pix) and online plane tracking. Used to be. One of a seemingly endless series of used to be's. Now I will feel alone on this trip in a new way, by myself again.
Not knowing of my reschedule, he sent me a card last month, wishing me a good trip home. It was not long after the last time I had seen him. In that, well, frankly, traumatic context it was very confusing, but it was intended mostly as a gesture of good will and kindness, typical of him. He used to call the psychology office where I worked The Upside Down World. For me nowadays, everywhere is that.
Anxiety is certainly one of the issues that people bring to work on in therapy. Along with its buddy, Depression. Hey, Gilgamesh and Enkindu. Siegfried and Roy. Anxiety and Depression, the BiPolar Buddies. Translated from the clinical, that duo becomes Fear and Sadness. Along with Anger and Joy, a basic emotional foursome of the human soul. One of the reasons I think I find the emotion of jealousy so revolting is that is composed of anger, fear and sadness all in one. No wonder it feels like you're drinking green battery acid.
Most current therapy is aimed at symptom reduction. Anxious? Well, we'll give you a pill to calm you down. Depressed? Same thing. I have no beef at all with meds, in the right context, but I am curious, in my Jungian way, about what the emotion is doing there. Sadness, fear, anger are not pathologies. These so-called "negative emotions" are part of the human psyche and they have a function and a reason for being there. People with congenital analgesia, who cannot feel physical pain, are in constant danger of injury and death. Their bodies leave them clueless to danger. Same thing for those who only wish to feel positive things. Clueless. Emotional analgesia seems no more desirable, really, although I understand the impulse!
While managing the tough feelings, I work on finding out what role they play in a person's character, their homeostasis, etc. Sometimes it is just a question of an essential component getting out of proportion. With anxious people especially, if they can ramp it down a bit they can see how a certain kind of vigilance, anticipation, looking out for things, actually helps to make their lives work. Maybe my anxiety helps me to make sure I get everything together that I need for a trip? To paraphrase Jung, a symptom is an ambassador, not necessarily an enemy.
Well, time to get out my pre-trip list of stuff I have to take care of, bring, etc. Non-sensate types like me, especially when we're a bit stressed...unless there's a list, I'll arrive at the airport without my passport. (I've done that.)
_______________________
*New York is where my immigrant ancestors landed and lived and made new lives as Americans. I went to visit the great gash in the earth where the Twin Towers were. I saw it right in front of me and I could still smell it, even from blocks away. And the walls of notes and pictures were still up, with the faces and the names, fathers of families, girlfriends, police and firefighters. I will never forget it as long as I live. Perhaps that explains some of the rage that fills this blog.
No comments:
Post a Comment