I have been going through some severe anxiety lately.
I could come forth with a number of different reasons and excuses as to why it is happening, but what I think it comes down to is…
My soul is crying.
I don’t know what feeds my soul anymore. What keeps her happy. What keeps her sane. What gives her light and life.
She’s crying. Sobbing. And every once in a while, she overflows into my consciousness and causes me pain.
It may have started before Mark died, but truly… it became unbearable after.
Because my soul is crying and she demands to be heard.
She demands to feel joy. She demands to feel passion. She demands to love and be loved fiercely – by me.
She is doing everything she can to be heard and I have been ignoring her.
I have been drowning her in mindless TV. I have been suffocating her with time spent scrolling through Facebook and other websites.
I have not been doing the things that keep her nourished because I was wrong.
Anxiety isn’t the symptom. Anxiety isn’t the problem.
The problem is that I don’t do the things I used to love. I am not discovering new things to love. I have not because the anxiety has been overwhelming me, pinning me to the couch, the chair, the bed and what I thought was an inability to cope with life was my soul SCREAMING at me to do something. Love something. Engage in something. Be PASSIONATE about something.
I played my piano for about 10 minutes tonight. I have had this piano for 13 years. In the last four years, I have played it maybe five or six times. I used to call music my passion; but I stopped playing.
Tonight… my soul was soothed… if for only those 10 minutes. Because I fed her what she needs.
I fed her with love, with joy, with beauty. I ignored the anxiety and played anyhow and the screaming stopped for a while.
My soul is crying… and it’s time for me to love her again.