That was then . . .

Anxiety

Last night I was lying in bed, grateful to be mostly warm, and awake. Since moving to South Africa, there are many things that are different, but one of the most potent changes has been in me. A couple summers ago on a camping trip, I started having anxiety attacks. I had always prided myself to a certain extent, that I could control myself. Then I had the feeling that I had to get out of that tent no matter what. I knew as people aged, their sleeping suffered, I didn't know that a part of middle agedness was dealing with anxiety.

So this is something I'm learning to deal with, the best way being reading Scripture or quoting a verse to myself over and over again. Another way to pass time lying in bed at midnight is to listen to music, and this is where a change has happened. Much of the music I enjoyed over the last twenty years I just can't listen to at night. If I put on some Van Morrison, it takes me to memories and somehow pushes my anxiety button. That's a no-no. Even U2, after 25 years, some of it I just can't handle at night.

Photos

If you know me, you know I enjoy photography. I always enjoyed looking through photos of summer trips and the like. That, now, is also a no-no. I have to be careful when using my laptop that Shiloh, my son, doesn't see pictures of Florida, him swimming in a pool, or with friends. If he does, that usually initiates a bout of homesickness at bed time. Our Christmas snow trip to central Washington will send me downhill faster than a skier. I can take a little exposure, but too much puts me over the edge. A couple weeks before flying here, we made a trip with my parents, visited my sister and her family in North Carolina, then did our favorite bike trail, the Virginia Creeper in Damascus, VA, then spent almost a week in Colonial Williamsburg. I can't even think about that trip. Have looked at those photos only once or twice in the last 7 months.

Last night I started thinking of my Grandma Keglovits, and the last time I saw her. I was flying to South Africa to meet Corné and get married, and knew I'd be gone a couple years at least. The chance that she'd still be alive when I got back were slim (she's had a stroke several years earlier). Quickly I had to move my thoughts elsewhere. Sad thoughts are extremely dangerous.

So when will this end? There has been such a shift, of my old life with all it's memories and connections, music and images interwoven, and now I have this new life. I was a teacher, comfy job; now I haven't had an income for a year and work outside with my hands which are cracked and worn. I feel I've walked over a bridge and could only carry so much luggage. The rest is left over there. Sometimes it waves at me and wants attention. Will it ever join me? I would like to think that once we are in our own house, these memories will have a place to come and rest. I'll be able to fondly look at pictures of us at the Grand Canyon or Zion, and smile. But will the old join the new? Is my new life so far removed that it will never reconcile with my old life? A major question is: Is this normal? This is what I wonder at night.