On Being Seen...Anxious

notes from the middle of becoming.

I’m back again, to be seen trying.

One of my favorite writers, Ashley C. Ford, used to run a blog called 5 Things, where she’d share 5 thoughts of the week. I don’t know if I’ll get to 5, but I’ll try.

One

After my cancer diagnosis (I’m fine now), writing hasn’t been easy for me. The things that made writing possible—silence, being alone, no distractions, being still—now scare me.

If you had told me years ago that I’d be afraid to fall asleep with no sound, I would have laughed. But that’s who I am now. I’m afraid of silence. I’m afraid of my thoughts. I’m anxious.

And it’s a quiet, insidious fear that follows me.

I tell my doctor the anxiety peaked after my diagnosis, but I know that’s a lie, and he does too.

“You’ve likely always been anxious, but having cancer made it worse, because you can’t control that”.

And before I can tell him he’s right, he says,

“You’re not gonna die.”

And I’m stunned at how he knows that’s my biggest fear. I tell myself, “Erica, you’re not gonna die today,” every day, multiple times a day.

Before I leave the house. As I walk into the grocery store. While I sit on the train.

Some nights, I convince myself that I’ll go peacefully in my sleep. Those are the nights I usher in the sunrise.

Dying is part of the human experience; we all go. I know that. But it’s not death that bothers me, it’s time. I want infinite time, and I don’t get it.

My fear hurts me, and it helps me. I’m more intentional. With how I spend my time and who I spend it with. My fear forces me to keep trying, to keep going, and to keep experiencing.

Because life goes on, and I want to go on with it.

Two

I took a train across the country last year in an attempt to quiet the noise. I wanted to be alone. The question I received most was, “What are you gonna do?”

Luckily, I’m good at improvising.

“I’m gonna write.”

“I’m gonna catch up on some reading.”

“I’m gonna work.”

In the end, I did nothing. And, I loved it. I spent the 17-hour journey from DC to Chicago in almost complete silence. Things changed in Chicago.

Despite the conductor’s reminder to place extra items below our assigned seats rather than in the seat next to us, I decided to spread out since the line outside the California Zephyr train was dwindling. Just as I flipped open my laptop, I heard, “Think I’m sitting next to you.”

I look up to find a middle-aged white woman with long brunette hair swept up into a ponytail wearing black athletic wear, hoisting her luggage into the overhead bin. I remember her from the line. Like me, she’s currently taking the Amtrak around the country with the rail pass. 10 trips in 30 days. She’s on her last leg.

I had a feeling she was a talker, so when she plopped into the seat, let out a deep breath, and said, “Whew, I can not wait to get home.” I leaned back and closed my laptop

The thing about first impressions is that they’re often wrong. What do a middle-aged White woman from Omaha, Nebraska, and a 33-year-old Black woman from the Bronx have in common? As it turns out, a lot.

Michelle grew up an evangelical and spent years of her life as a missionary. Then, one day, she gave it all up. She walked away from religion. She stopped believing she was born into sin, destined to never be good enough for a choice she didn’t make, forced to constantly chase the validation of being one of God’s favorites. And she stopped trying to make others do the same.

“One day, I looked at my life with the rules, regulations, and shame. I couldn’t do it anymore.”

I shared that I grew up in church, and my decision to stop going was influenced by a Bible study I had with a woman I met at the Seventh-day Adventist church my dad took me to on the first weekend of my first year at the University of Vermont. We had just finished praying, and as she was placing her Bible and quarterly into her tote bag, I asked her, “Do you really think that everyone who isn’t a Seventh Day Adventist won’t make it into heaven?”

She tilted her head to the side, grabbed my hand, and said, “If they don’t want to follow the rules on Earth, why would they want to live with Jesus forever? Wouldn’t they have to follow them in heaven?”

I never returned her phone calls. I never stepped foot back in that church.

Michelle offers me some of her snacks and says she understands.

I tell her I believe God is compassionate, kind, and forgiving. I don’t believe God sits up there and waits for us to fail. God isn’t judging us. God doesn’t see us as impure or sinful. God just sees us.

Michelle agrees.

She tells me about the time she lived in a tent in her brother’s garage for two months in her early forties.

“You should have seen him, he was so mad. He didn’t even care about the garage. Had it for years and did nothing with it. All of a sudden, I start living in it, and he has big plans. Keeps trying to get me to stay in one of the 3 extra bedrooms in his house. And I get it. How does he explain the situation to people?”

I nod.

“And yes, buying a storage bin from Home Depot and taking a bath in it instead of showering in the house was a bit much. But I needed that.”

Smiling, I responded, “He was jealous of your freedom. It’s also good to know about the storage bin. I was curious about that.”

She laughed.

Michelle tells me she was afraid to get on the train, and everyone in her family thought she was crazy, but she had to commit. She needed to be brave. She tells me her mom was a fearful woman who died fearful. She didn’t want to do the same. She shows me pictures of her train journey, but not too many; she doesn’t want to ruin it for me. She confesses, “I want to live my life believing in myself and my power.”

I share books I’ve read that have helped me on my journey to do the same.

Books on the Buddhist principle of impermanence.

Books on self-compassion.

Books on self-forgiveness.

Michelle’s eyes get wide, “I manifested a new awning in my neighborhood.”

“What?”

“Yup. Using my magic wand. I learned about it in A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose. There was this ugly awning in my neighborhood, and I was tired of looking at it. So I waved my wand and BAM! Can you believe they took it down and replaced it? Thought it was a fluke. Saw another awning I hated and waved the wand. They took that one down, too! The power of the mind is real!”

We laughed.

“And it’s not just the awning. I knew I’d be going through Seattle and decided to see a play. I have an old girlfriend there. She has a husband and kids, so we don’t see each other often. I didn’t tell her I was coming up until 3 days before, told myself if it’s meant to be, it will be. And it worked out! She was free. It was so good.”

And I know Michelle is right. It all works out. We all end up exactly where we need to be.

An hour before the train gets into Omaha, Michelle tells me, “I didn’t want to talk to anyone on this train. I’m ready to be home. But you have such a warm energy. I had to say hello. I’m glad I did. Take my number. Come visit me in Omaha.”

Her parting gift is a Ziploc bag filled with teas she’s picked up at the various hotels she’s stayed in on her 28-day journey, a cup of instant oatmeal, and the gift of a good omen that reminds me I made the right choice and that everything will be okay.