Anxiety, Hope and other stuffs related to that

So today is seven months and three days since I moved to Vermont.  I thought I might write this email when it was six months but, not only was I busy that week, I wasn't quite there yet. 

Life is pretty crazy. I was talking to my former roommate on Friday night and marveling that a year ago this time (when we were once again living together as roommates) I was still building a law practice.  Full speed ahead!  With no idea that only a month later I would suddenly stop, pause and reconsider.  The events leading up to that were happening throughout the month of September.  I could never have foreseen where I would be now.  It's crazy.  As the weather changes and it feels like September again, my mind goes back and I remember in a little bit of awe.

So, when I moved to Vermont, I had a pretty difficult adjustment to my new life.  Not to Vermont or my little town (so happy to be out of the city), or the ridiculous cost of living (though a trip to the grocery store still astounds me) or any of that. Nope, not to those things.  But to "normalcy."  

I had fought to survive for so long (3 1/2 years) that I just really didn't know how else to live.  Oh, during those years I had plenty of grand times, but at the back of everything was constant worry and wondering what to do.  And I just didn't know how to cope when I had free time--what do you do if you're not job searching?  Not worrying about money?  Not trying to understand what to do with your life?  How do people leave in normal?  I'd never really done it as an adult and I didn't know.

But worse than that was the constant anxiety that it wouldn't last.  That I'd wake up and it would end.  Before my first Sunday here I was so anxious I was making myself sick. What if it wasn't really real?  And then that evening, before my first day of work, it was even worse.  I'd never talked to anyone in person.  Maybe it was all a joke, a mistake or misunderstanding.  Maybe they'd said I didn't have the job.  I was a wreck, worrying about going to that first day and finding it was just a dream.  After all, I hadn't had a real, full-time job for years.  (And, in case you're wondering, yes I felt some of the same anxiety going to teach at Northeastern--even after teaching classes for over a week, I kept thinking it was too good to be true and they'd realize they'd emailed the wrong person at any time.  (Maybe they did! :) )).  I knew it was irrational and I knew where the feelings came from--but it didn't make it any better.  I was pretty sure that only time would cure it all.

To make things worse, the process of coming here seemed so familiar.  Moving all my things from various locations to be in my own apartment to start a real, grown-up job.  I did that once before.  And then, two months in, it was gone.  Pulled out from under me.  Now, this was different and some part of me knew it.  When I went to Arkansas, I never felt comfortable about it.  I didn't feel like that's where I needed to be--I knew it and my boss knew it too.  But I was ready to make it my life because that's what I had.  The day I was laid off was one of the most relieving days of my life--perhaps only second to the day I decided not to go on a mission (in round one).   So, coming here felt very, very different.  But the anxiety was still there.  I couldn't, just absolutely could not get rid of my moving boxes.  What if I needed them again soon?  In fact, I still have them.  But now it's mostly because I can't decide what to do with them and I'm used to the tower in my bedroom, so I just ignore them.  Not because I need them for security. 

It was hard.  Hard to feel so much anxiety, hard not to be able to relax, hard to still worry.  To some extent I still do. I have a solid savings put away, I have ideas of who I would call and where I would go if I was suddenly jobless.  But it's becoming more about general preparedness and less about fear.  It's taking time, though. 

Last night I saw a lovely Mormon Message by Elder Christoffersen about Daily Bread.  His CES fireside in 2011 on the same topic was one of the most comforting, helpful talks (out of so, so many) during those dark years.  And it was a good reminder.  I will always need daily bread from the Lord.  He will always be the source of my blessings, even when I don't have to plead for it, hope for it each day. And remembering the past will help me remember that, will keep me away from pride.  Like the remembrance of the pain of a sin keeps me from repeating it, I think remembering those dark times will help me always remember the Lord and not turn from him.

Remembering can help me live in hope.  I think that was one of the key lessons from the past few years.  I think I had charity and faith down pretty well (can always improve, but I had a solid basis), but I neither understood nor really knew how to hope.  And I learned.  In my darkest moments I learned to have HOPE in Jesus Christ.  I still need to live in that hope.  Even though it's an easier time in my life, even though the temporary blessings are much more abundant, I still need daily, spiritual bread from God.  And I need to walk in hope. 

Healing has come with the weeks and months.  I don't feel that I'm completely whole, healed, but I do feel that I am well.  I've come a long, long way since February.  And I am thankful. 

So thankful, too, for a Savior.