I wake up in the morning religiously at four thirty AM.  I have no need to get up that early.  I don’t have a job that requires predawn awakening.  I am startled when I open my eyes and begin to have this worried sensation in my body.  My stomach is upset and the quiet in the bedroom is triggering.  I don’t want to wake up my wife and trouble her with my nonsense.

I immediately begin to read the local newspaper to distract from the anxiety that is rushing through my neck and shoulders.  How come I haven’t learned that reading the paper is not a distraction?  It increases the sense of doom and gloom.

Headlines such as Corona virus deaths increase, Trump says open the schools, Hospitals run out of ICU beds only exacerbate my sense that something even worse is going to happen in the next few minutes. This all takes place while the sun is beginning to rise and I am trying to figure out if I should try to go back to sleep or get up to run.

I usually choose the running option and I get out of bed; not quite ready to start the day.  Running gear is quickly put on and tying shoelaces takes place.  I do a few stretches and put the headphones on to connect with my music device.

Out the door and down the street, anxiety gradually drifts away, and I think of what I am going to do today.  I will see all my clients on FaceTime, Zoom or Google Duo.  I will think about booting up the iPad and preparing for hours of screen time.  I think of how I can help my clients during today’s therapy sessions.

Playing the guitar, working on the mystery novel, writing blogs, playing percussion, hanging out with my wife are activities I am looking forward to.

Around the third mile, I ask myself why I am feeling so anxious.  It can appear intensely or just background noise, but it is always present.

There are childhood memories I return to now and then.  They involve schoolteachers and a counselor.

My fifth grade teacher once announced to the class that I was the dumbest child she ever taught.  She began her teaching career when Abraham Lincoln was president.  The sixth grade teacher honored me by giving me failing grades in all my classes because she couldn’t read my handwriting.  The ninth grade guidance counselor informed my parents and me that my scat and step tests indicated that I was not college material and that I should take vocational classes instead of college prep.

I believed that I was stupid for years.  I had no faith or confidence in my abilities.  I was ashamed that I couldn’t measure up to my parent’s standards.  During more recent years, I have experienced anger and sadness that they didn’t fight for me or do much to counteract the messages I was getting from the educational system.

Another memory that stands out took place when I was fifteen years old.  I was at my father’s grave site.  He died November 9, 1966.  The gravediggers were still digging out the hole in the ground while the ceremony was taking place.  I found this to be horribly disrespectful.

I believe I have been dedicating my life to undoing the injustice that was done to my dad that day.  If he were a rich man and not a factory worker, would they have treated his body this way?  Hell no.

Another memory is hearing my mother say that the woman across the street married to a police officer was telling all the neighbors that any property destruction in the neighbor hood was perpetrated by that blond haired Jew who happened to be me.

So, are these memories the underlying reasons for my anxiety? If so, what should I do with them?  Do I want to let them go even if I can?  No, it is clear I don’t want to let them go.  I want to honor them by remembering.  These memories also allow me to connect with my client’s struggles of feeling inadequate.  I believe my empathy helps them feel validated and gives them space to work through these issues.

When I was a teenager I believe I became to understand that the very system that was harming and killing people of color; the same system that was sending young men into dubious wars, was the same system that was not benefiting me.

I felt abused by the educational system, organized religion, the funeral industry and the law enforcement system.

My people have also been victims of genocide and slavery.  I have learned to connect with others who have similar experiences in fighting against this oppressive system.

What is it that I am longing for?  I am seeking safety; I want to feel that my survival is not threatened.  I don’t want the fight or flight response to go off a million times a day.

How do we do this?

Become immersed in creative activities.

When you are playing guitar, painting a picture, or singing, focusing on that activity allows you to leave the worry behind in a healthy way.

Hang out with friends and have as much fun as possible.  Laughing through your masks and social distancing while taking a walk with friends is a stress reducer.  Connecting with those close to you is reassuring and calming.

Be aware of the connection between memories and anxiety. If you are anxious, ask yourself why and it may be connected to a triggering memory.   Distract yourself from this state by reading a book, taking a walk, listening to a positive song.

Take deep breaths when feeling overwhelmed

Find your hopeful place inside.  I know that one day COVID 19 will be behind us and we will all feel free.  There will be a renaissance period for new music, art, dance, and places to mingle. Joy will come back into vogue and we can dance the night away.