I’m still feeling very anxious and I still can’t say why (and might not say why for a long time). I was so anxious last night it was a struggle to eat anything and I couldn’t even watch Doctor Who. I stopped after three minutes. I’m not that bad today, things seem to be moving OK at the moment, but they could change in an instant.
I’ve mentioned before that I sometimes feel like Charlie Brown coming to kick the football: I try so hard, but it’s always moved away at the last minute. It’s funny, I think I’m actually a trusting person overall. I think I trust most people unless they show me I shouldn’t. But it’s so hard to trust HaShem (God). I wasn’t abused as a child, but I did have a difficult childhood, with a lot of isolation and bullying and I guess that’s left me feeling like a lot of abused children, feeling that I can’t trust HaShem to be there for me, or at least assuming that His plan for me probably includes a predominant amount of loneliness and pain. It’s hard to believe things could suddenly swing around and get better, although as a Jew I have to believe this, and recent events have at least shown that things can change very quickly (it’s hard to believe it is less than a month since Pesach; it feels like something from years ago as so many things seem to have happened in between).
So, I’m trying to have bitachon, to trust that good things can happen to me. It’s hard though. I know that trusting HaShem is the religiously correct thing to do, but I’m so scared that if I do, He’ll turn around and say, “How can a sinner like you think you deserve good things? For that, I’m going to make things even worse.” I know rationally it doesn’t work like this, but it’s hard to push through thirty years of emotional programming.
The fact that the freak heat wave we had earlier this week seems to have gone and April showers have set in probably doesn’t help my mood. I don’t know whether the heter (permission) I had to listen to music in the mourning period of the omer, when music is normally forbidden, applied to anxiety too, but I had to take a chance and listen to some music on the way home, because I could feel my anxiety slipping down into depression again. It helped a little. I’m trying to hold on. But it’s hard.
I just commented on AshleyLeia’s post about writing a letter to one’s younger self that, “for many years, long before this fad, I’ve wanted to go up to my really young self (about five years old) and just hug him and tell him that he’s OK.” And I kind of wish someone would do that to me now, really.