On any given day, I wake up full of gratitude. I count up my hours of sleep, take a moment to recount any dreams, and just generally check in with myself and how I feel. Then my husband and I spend some time talking and communicating with each other.
Yesterday morning, however, was different. Gratitude was replaced by anxiety as I counted up my sleep and decided it was enough. I stopped only briefly to ask my husband in passing whether he’d slept well. In retrospect, I was feeding the wrong wolf, but there I went, wandering further in the wrong direction.
I started worrying about time, and specifically lack of it. Check-in for our flight was at 8:00, it was now nearly 6:30, and I stood in my pajamas wondering if the weather was going to be a problem. Heavy rains were just starting, and were scheduled to get even heavier. As I started getting ready, I pictured every kind of weather-related plane disaster imaginable.
When we got to the airport, there were no delays, which I thought was a good sign. In the plane, I was glad to find a place to stow my bag, and then the anxiety started creeping back into my thoughts. Get out of the aisle, you’re in the way, the chances of you and David dying together in a plane crash are infinitesimal. The thought comforted me in an odd way. I went further with my theories: I’ve known two people who died on planes, so the chances of it happening to me as well are pretty much non-existent. But there’s always terrorism. Could any of these people be carrying a weapon?
I had to step in and intervene in this line of thought. The way I was going, toward total insanity and paranoia, was neither helpful nor enjoyable. I reminded myself that every time I’ve ever taken a flight, I do this same thing – I look for ways that things could end in death, and guess what? I’m still alive.
I decided to lay down the law with myself. I could either spend the rest of my life avoiding flying and worrying about terrorists, or I could just accept the great Divine that is God, and that I have a purpose on the earth that I am here to fulfill. When that mission is over, it’s over, and no amount of anxiety or stress is going to affect that. Admitting that to myself, hearing that truth in my head, allowed me to relax and enjoy the rest of the journey.
This is a far cry from how I was in earlier years, not even able to venture out of my house, much less get on an airplane. Without medication, it was a certainly a struggle to heal my anxiety disorder, but now, on the plane, I could enjoy the luxury of feeling pleased with how far I’ve come.
I’d like to take a moment to tell another old story. There was a Shaman who, on the night of each full moon, would sit with the village children and recount the story of the white wolf and the dark wolf. These were two wolves who had been adversaries since the dawn of time. The white wolf thrives on truth, kindness, and love. The dark wolf, on the other hand, gains his strength from hatred, fear, and lies. The two wolves would battle again and again, and each time the children heard the story, they would ask which wolf wins in the end. The shaman’s answer was simple: “The wolf that wins is the one you feed!” And so it is.
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