Transfiguration? Some initial thoughts.

The other night Phillip and I were in charge of the Yes, Look At Us We Are Organized Now Young Adult Lenten Bible Study. We're using a little book one of the other young adults ordered from a nice Christian bookstore and it pretty much follows the previous Sunday's scripture readings. It's sort of easy to plan a bible study when you've already heard a sermon on the passage. Except not, because you are planning it with your husband and the two of you should not work together, ever. But it went well, I think, mostly because Phillip is really good at that sort of thing while I am most definitely not. So when I say that "we" were in charge I mean that I did the hokey prayers at the beginning and end and Phillip did all the real work.

We read the chapter where God calls Abram to leave home at age 75 and start over in a new land. And we read the story of Jesus' transfiguration in front of the disciples. How open are we, Phillip asked us brightly, to change? I have been thinking about how to write a post about the suspicious lack of anxiety in my life right now and this morning I decided that it had everything to do with being Transfigured.

Ah, I am so profound today.

From the massive amount of anxiety-related research I've done, most people have anxiety attacks: momentary paralyzation, certainty that they are going to die, panic attacks, giant rushes of adrenaline related to... I don't know. Driving, going outside, flying, using the phone, whatever. I don't have that. I have adrenaline that hits me like a cartoon anvil, quickly dissipates just enough for me to survive unmedicated and lasts a painfully long time. It's only now that I'm feeling the faintest bit of free from the last one, and the last one happened over two years ago. It's happened to me twice, totally unrelated incidents, but in both cases I was willfully ignoring (maybe even completely oblivious to) something I shall call Change.

I don't think of myself as a particularly dense person, but when I look back at what triggered my battles with anxiety, I'm in shameful awe of my own stubbornness. Especially the second time. The second time I wasn't letting anything stand in the way of My Perfect Future, not even the fact that my perfect future had already materialized, on its own, through the grace of God, and was in my living room. I refused to consider that choices the 18-year-old me had once labeled the Height of Dull might be the things making the 24-year-old me deliriously happy. What kind of girl goes around telling everyone how crazy awesome her life is, while actively turning it upside down, just to please the twisted part of her brain that vowed never to be That Girl?

I'm stymied and appalled by my own will.*

Once I figured out what was really making me anxious (which took forever, because I am THAT STUBBORN), much of the anxiety lifted.  I was at the point where I didn't care how much I had to change, just as long as I could fall asleep at night. In that respect, transfiguration was easy; I got used to the idea almost overnight. I only had to live through an entire winter of fearful insomnia to get there.

Of course, none of that means I'm now humbled and receptive to God's work in me. Hardly. In fact, I've been wondering why the last six months haven't triggered a third anxiety episode, as some of this figuring-out-our-future stuff has been some of the hardest stuff I've had to deal with. I am no good at giving up what I want. I make life miserable for myself and everyone around me, but I wonder if I have learned a thing or two.  Maybe I've been able to sleep because I've actually tried to let that stuff go, even when it meant feeling sad for months on end. I haven't tried to make them happen anyway. I haven't tried to ignore the fact that I'm sad, acting like that stuff doesn't matter, like it was small and insignificant and easily conquered. It's been huge and unhappy, but somehow I've managed to let the bad things sit alongside the good, knowing that God will take care of me. Dare I say it- I've allowed my plans to change?

IT DOESN'T MEAN I LIKE IT.

I mean, I think Abram had it easy. God's voice thundered from the heavens. Who wouldn't obey THAT?**

*I am NOT saying that I could have prevented anxiety through the power of my fabulously muscled mind. I believe all the smart folks who say that anxiety and depression are two sides of the same neurological disorder, everything to do with the little thingies in the brain not pulling their weight. I think anti-depressant meds etc. are a very good thing. That said, I do know that my own neurotic self and my oft-mentioned highly anxious personality traits encourage that disorder a good deal and for ME, the first plan of attack involves reigning in the self-produced crazy. I am humbled knowing that the fact that I've been able to deal with this on my own means there are a lot of people way worse off. End of wishy washy disclaimer.

**I am never sure how much I want to write about this anxiety thing, but I know that my favorite sites are unflinchingly honest about the crappy stuff no one talks about. It has made me feel less alone and less crazy, so I guess I hope that the random person googling 'anxiety' leaves my site thinking, "At least I'm not alone." I would also be okay with, "Thank God there's still someone crazier than me."