Thursday 7 March 2019

Anxiety


This morning in the bath I interviewed myself, asking myself firmly, "What's going on?"

It helps that I live most of the time in a fantasy world with people I have imagined, which allows the different personas of my interior realm to talk to each other. That makes interviewing myself easier, but today I had to resort to direct questioning.

Earlier in the week our Ellen was sitting chatting with Buzzfloyd and me and the kids in their kitchen, wearing a lovely green kaftan. I immediately wanted to change all my clothes for kaftans. I ferreted out the place online where she got hers, and — oh, dear — the only ones left were in size XS, an act of God that saved me from great expense. Two days before that I'd been looking at dresses on Toast. I wanted three. Happily there is just enough in my bank account to buy groceries, so spending two months' income was not an option and I was saved from that. I did, however, buy a coat on eBay, just in case March turns out to be windy and very, very cold. My gilet served me perfectly well through January, but hey. The coat is very nice: also huge, heavy and bulky. Heavy clothes make me tired. I am fairly sure it is destined for the next Shelter collection (Shelter is our UK homeless charity, and every now and then they drop off bags for us to fill for them to earn income. I try always to have something to donate for them).

Then yesterday, I decided I hated all my trousers and herded them up to get rid of them. I looked at skirts on eBay so I could get some more exactly like the ones I've already got.

Later in the day, I decided I hated my hair and ought to have it cut off. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Thou hast been growing that since last spring," said the Lord. "Think about it, chum! Press 'Pause'. Are you sure?"

I backed off the hair cut and decided I was too fat. This is why everything is horrible. I have a fat face. My grandmother was fat and I look like her. My mother hated her and hated that she was fat. My mother hated my other grandmother getting fat at the change of life. I grew up in a family that hates and despises fat. I live in a culture that has an perpetual fat war. This is the problem, fat, fat, fat. I ought to throw my food away and buy salad. I interviewed myself about what I am eating. It seemed . . . well, not perfect, but . . . realistic. I eat greens. I mean, I had pancakes on Shrove Tuesday and on Sunday I had afternoon tea with friends, but I don't eat Snickers bars or big slices of coffee cake or waffles with ice cream — sadly.

It was at this point that I turned round and looked at myself fiercely and asked — "What's going on?"

And then I knew.

Let me give you a little background (with profuse hand-wringing anxious apologies for writing such a long post).

From my family of origin, discount my father. He was rarely there. I can remember only one conversation of any length with him from my entire life (because he was giving me a lift to Oxford and so was stuck in the car with me for an hour and a half). Fairly nice man, but basically somewhere else. Completely uninterested in my thoughts on any subject in the world. The separation-by-transcendence from God the Father has never greatly perturbed me because my earthly father wasn't that immanent either.

My mother and sister were there, and my mother and I talked about life, the universe and everything all the time. But my mother and my sister share a common evaluation of me. They regard me with kindly contempt, and reject my views on . . . everything. I won't expand on this one too much, it's a big subject for me, let's just leave it there. 

At school I had difficulty, because I couldn't learn anything. Back in the 1960s IQ tests were a big thing, and we did them a lot at school. My IQ went off the chart in the end so they could no longer measure it. I don't even know what that means (How could it go off the chart? Anyway, that's what they said), but I do know that if I take an IQ test these days I can hardly do it at all, so I think it was just practice not intelligence. The thing is, my mind retains ideas but not data. I scored a steady 10% in maths and less in geography. I failed history O-level (that's the exams we took around age 16). I got in a muddle with the sewing machines and didn't know what the art teacher meant about painting the different shades within the pile of white things and stole some eggs in the cookery lesson because I messed up the meringue and had to start again. I was thrown out of the dance class for messing up Strip The Willow. I was okay at English, but got only 50% in the mock O-level exams because the teacher didn't like my creative writing (she thought it was going to be a love story but it turned out to be about God) so she gave me marks for spelling and punctuation (perfect) but none for content whatever. School and I were unsuccessful travelling companions. When I did well in my French A-level (the exams we took at 17/18) the teacher wouldn't speak to me because she'd predicted I'd fail. Anyway, eventually they released me into the wild and life got better.

I've never been much good at jobs because I get bored and tired, but I'm quite resourceful, don't need much money and am fairly good at living. I'm not trainable, really, at anything. When I was a free-church hospice chaplain I asked if I needed training and they said no because I could already do it without. When my life was screwed up to the max in the early 2000s, the church told me to get counselling but my doctor said it couldn't be done — I wasn't counsellable, don't bother. I think she was right; she's a good doctor.

When I trained for ordination, it was terrifying. I seemed to live in a completely different galaxy from . . . everyone. For one thing, I believe in the unseen world. I believe in the resurrection and the virgin birth of Christ. I also believe in angels. And I believe in fairies. I also talk to animals and birds and trees and they talk back to me. I walk on the rim between life and death where it is very luminous. I am only just here, and I am waiting to go home, and I dearly hope they still want me when I get back there. None of this had any place in ordination training. Each course we did made absolutely no sense to me, and I never knew what to put in the essays because they might as well have been talking Japanese. I have no idea how I got through. Kindness, I guess (theirs).

So, back to the present.

I am about a week off finishing the book I am writing and now I am crippled with anxiety. I have what my husband (a kind man; people are always kind to me — they have to be) calls "an original mind", which is all very well but does tend to mean my honest truth is other people's rubbish (viz. my mother and sister). Plus, I have no idea how to write. No one ever taught me, and couldn't have done if they tried. If people try to teach me anything I'm just mesmerised by the person teaching and can't pay attention to what they're telling me at all. So when it comes to writing I just dig around inside and put down what I find. A situation similar to when our Fiona was about four and voiced concern about how she would make a living once she grew up. We were at the time driving past the sweet shop (a favourite venue of hers) so I said, encouragingly, "Oh, you'll find something interesting to do, darling. Perhaps you'll run a sweet shop." There followed a split second's silence then her wail of anguish, "I CAN'T RUN A SWEET SHOP!" 
"No, no," I hastened to reassure her: "Not now. But when you're grown up you'll be able to do all sorts of things." I can't decide whether I was mistaken or simply lying, but I feel the same about writing books, which is the only thing I can do, as she did at four years old about running a sweet shop. I marvel at those people who know about plot structure and whatnot and can tell you about . . . er . . . whatever it is you're meant to know to write a book. So I have put in my manuscript what I think and believe, but . . . if it seems pointless, opaque and childish, I have nothing else to say. Fortunately, this is the month for royalty payments and I have just enough coming in that if my editor thinks what I have written is inadequate tosh, I can give him back the money they paid me on signature of contract and call it quits.

But when I interviewed myself this morning, my inner primitive finally confessed, that's the problem: not trousers, not kaftans, not skirts, not hair and not fat. It's the sense of profound inadequacy that makes the very idea of writing a book seem utterly laughable. Every.  Single.  Time.

Whatever your problems in life may be this morning, dearest reader, be glad of this: at least you are not me. Life is sooooo long.



39 comments:

greta said...

i have read every one of your books that i can get my hands on. trust me on this, you can write a book and very well too. what made me smile was that, just this morning, i reminded myself to once again pray for you as you are in your writing phase. prayers winging your way. it will all be fine. just breathe.

Pen Wilcock said...

Oh — you are a sweetheart! — what a lovely comment — thank you so much! xx

Sandra Ann said...

Oh Pen I could sense the anguish in this post :-(

In case you need reminding again, loads of books were culled in the move (and I love books!) and yours remained in the hold on tight to them category! As a result of my sharing this you kindly sent two as a gift, and no I'm not fishing for more :-)

Your words are eloquent, insightful, spiritual and encouraging. Sending prayers to you as you 'birth'another priceless treasure and set it forth into the wider world xx

Pen Wilcock said...

:0)

Thank you. I have one more chapter to write . . . xx

Anonymous said...

I thank God you are who you are and that you write as you do, from your heart and your soul. Your words speak Truth and they speak of Beauty. From my soul to yours, thank you and God bless you.

Pen Wilcock said...

Namaste. Thank you. x

Anonymous said...

Dear Penelope,
Never forget you are a unique and valuable individual! If we were all the same no one would have anything to contribute to anyone else! I hope you are able to have a time of rest and replenishment when your book has been submitted.
blessings,
DMW
PS: I love to drool over Toast Clothing. Sooo outside of my budget!

Pen Wilcock said...

Thank you! You like Toast too? So beautiful! Their things are really well-made, too. The ladies in my household have gradually (they haven't got much money either, and wait for the sales) accumulated a collection of Toast garments, and find that they wear in well — over time they don't become disappointing, they become favourites. I also love that they are feminine without being sexy — Toast makes clothes for women in the same way that menswear designers make clothes for men: they are designed for human beings not for Barbie dolls. And the colours! Just lovely!

Anonymous said...

I came across this the other day, thought it was beautiful and would now love to share...

“ I wish I could show you, when you’re lonely or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being” Hafiz Shiraz

You are an astonishing light Pen!
Deb x

Pen Wilcock said...

Oh, I have seen that quotation on the internet — thank you so much for putting it here. It is a wonderful reminder because it's true, isn't it! xx

The Rev. Susan Creighton said...

Ah, yes, as my old friend Evagrius (4th Century) calls it: the "thorns of anxious care." And he has a remedy I use often--rebuking the demon by name. "Be gone, you demon of (anxiety) [or fill in the blank as appropriate]! I find it works best with a loud, commanding voice, and by invoking the power of the Name of Christ.

Sending prayers for focus, clarity, and discrimination...gifts all your books demonstrate in abundance!

Ganeida said...


{{{Hugs}}}

Suzan said...

Bless you my darling. I love your thoughts and honesty. I recently decided. that I probably have the family autism. I prefer to be on my own and left to my own devices. Life is difficult.

Buzzfloyd said...

Then again, you'll come through this wave when you're not about to present your creative work to the world, and you'll regain some self-confidence, because you don't always feel like this about yourself.

I also have conversations with myself where I agonise over why there's absolutely nothing that I'm good at, and how I'm a total failure at life because I'm so unable to do anything well or contribute anything useful to anybody - and then I remind myself that I know this isn't true, even if it feels like it sometimes.

Anonymous said...

I have read all The Hawk and the Dove books plus The Clear Light of Day plus the story on the internet but the trolls.All of them several times. I just love them all. I love your writing and your stories.

Pen Wilcock said...

Ah — my dear friends — you are so nice!

Susan — you made me laugh! I can so clearly imagine you standing in the middle of a room banishing the demon in a loud commanding voice! I live in a shared house so I think I might take your advice but do it quietly.

Ganeida — hug you right back — thank you!

Suzan — yes, it *so* is!! x

Buzz — Yes, you are entirely right, I will come through it. I would not have started this book without a clear-headed evaluation that it had something to add not already being said. The difficulty for me is uncertainty over its reception; as you know receptions of me and my work are *decidedly* mixed. I just hope it goes down okay. As for your own contribution; it is consistently high quality and gets better all the time. In terms of preaching and teaching, you are a star.

Unknown — bless you, friend; thank you!

Anonymous said...

Back to the Toast clothing - I'm 5'2", and afraid I would drown in their clothing lengthwise, unfortunately!
DMW

Pen Wilcock said...

There you are DMW — your height has saved your bank account! You are right. Part of the reason we love Toast clothes is they are great for people with long backs, long arms and long legs!

Rebecca said...

Oh dear. Tell me how to escape similar anxiety! Hurry. I'm waiting.

Julie B. said...

Everyone's comments or sentiments above? Ditto, x 1000.

xoxo

Pen Wilcock said...

Hi Rebecca — well, we have each other, which helps a lot, and we live simply which gives us more breathing room, and we pay attention to reality, so I think all those things help us. x

Hi Julie B! xx

Anonymous said...

I'm in a muddle too, Pen. I don't know how to dress. Should I dress in dresses all the time? They're lovely but I hate wearing tights. And I need to wear flat, comfortable, sensible (hence ugly) shoes because of a Morton's Neuroma. Perhaps I should wear more bohemian clothes but I've no innate sense of style. I've tried wearing a 'uniform' of navy t-shirts & navy trousers, but I've become so depressed without colour in my life. I almost bagged up my tshirts & trousers today as well - think I still might. I'm fat too, and feel like I'm wasting my life.
I just want to sleep all the time and stay at home - I don't want to bother with mixing with people. Is it the change in seasons that affects us?
Or is it an age thing?
One thing is certain - you have a wonderful talent for writing books. Don't underestimate yourself. Your books give lots of us much pleasure.
Kay in Cornwall

Pen Wilcock said...

Hello Kay — About the wanting to sleep all the time and not bother mixing; you sound a little bit depressed. It might be worth talking to your doctor or a friend you trust? I personally have also found I have to be careful about sugary food and refined carbs: while a little bit occasionally can make me feel cheerful, they can make me feel very grumpy and tired if I don't strictly limit them. And of course, as everyone knows, going out in the fresh air for a walk is really important for a pick-me-up. I've often thought it might be nice to have a Walk Buddy — someone I could meet up with to stroll and chat by the sea or in the park.

About the colours you wear: finding a "uniform" can be helpful so we don't end up with loads of clothes that don't go together. I like the idea of finding your right dark colour (it sounds as if navy could be what you are drawn to, then maybe two or three colours that go with it — for example, ivory and lilac, or yellow and light blue and grey, or seafoam and peacock blue and burgundy (just whatever you like that suits you), so you can build a wardrobe where you feel confident the things will go together. Sometimes a scarf or a bag or a hat can give you the pop of colour that makes you feel confident and cheerful.

About styles: yes, I have to wear flat, comfy shoes too — and why not? Men do. So I usually start with the shoes (in my case Birkenstocks and Vivobarefoots) and pick clothes that will go with them. I wear long, full skirts in the summer, and trousers or gentle a-line knit skirts in the winter. Like you, I have problems with tights, with the one exception of M&S merino tights; they are soft and comfy but allow my skin to breathe. In the summer, I go for rather longer full skirts that cover my varicose-vein-y legs up, and I wear Patra silk short johns underneath to prevent thigh chafe.

I have found that luxury fabrics make my rather plain, solid, dark, colour choices look nice: I mainly choose cashmere or alpaca woollies and cotton tees and skirts. In winter I might wear a merino knit skirt or cosy trousers in micro-fleece. I wait for cashmere in the ends of the sales or look on eBay for brands I like. I find if one is patient it's possible to find affordable luxury clothes.

When you mentioned bagging up your tees and trousers — I also find it helpful to have a quarantine box, especially for useful wardrobe staples like that. If you change your mind after they've gone, the money it would take to replace them could have bought you a nice weekend away or a really sumptuous cashmere cardigan! With a quarantine box in the attic or under the bed, you can get rid of them all in a fit of rage and still get them back again later!

I hope something nice comes along in your life to help you feel cheerful and confident. May you be happy and blessed today. xx

Buzzfloyd said...

Re tights: it may be of no real interest at all, but I keep getting adverts for Snag tights on Facebook, which are sized so they actually fit people of different shapes. I haven't tried them, but they might be useful to someone.

Pen Wilcock said...

"Snag" tights sounds ominous, doesn't it! To me, the clincher is always — do they have a gusset? I will take a look at Snag.

Daisyanon said...

Love this "The separation-by-transcendence from God the Father has never greatly perturbed me because my earthly father wasn't that immanent either."

Where does Ellen get her kaftans? Asking for a friend :)

I have discovered Sea Salt and in particular Gudrun Sjoden, although you probably wouldn't like her stuff. It is all ethically produced etc, but very colourful. But it all fits perfectly which is bliss. Very comfortable and often with pockets.

Looking forward to your book.

The other day I saw a woman crossing the road in front of me. She was quite tiny and very slim, about 70ish give or take a decade either way. She had blondish hair, ie yellow not grey, about jaw length with a fringe and a lot of bright green stripes. She was wearing clothes of black and green. She looked very happy and just like a leprechaun. I was so impressed. I would love to be like that.

Pen Wilcock said...

Hi Daisy! Nice to see you :0)

I do like Gudrun Sjoden's clothes, and I love the catalogue. We accumulate catalogues in our bathroom — we have the Poetry one, and Wrap, Toast, Patra, White Stuff, Seasalt, and Boden. A few years ago we spent a happy day making our own spoof catalogue that we called Sjöden Böden. It was very funny and made us laugh a lot.

That lady you describe — we have a similar one here in Hastings! Like the little girl in the Mrs Pepperpot books grown old. Or Pippi Longstocking.

Pen Wilcock said...

Oh — Ellen's kaftans are from J P Peterman (US firm).

Anonymous said...

Thank you ever so much for your lovely, detailed reply to my earlier comment. I appreciate the time and thought that went into it.
Yes, I agree about sugary food - I find it very addictive. If I start a day with no sugar (refined) I don't miss it. But oh! One little taste and I turn into a sugar-craving monster!!
I'll look into the m & s tights - literally! :)
Exercise is not possible for me because of severe nerve pain in my lower back.
I'm already on 200mg Sertraline (almost max dose) for anxiety/depression and I really don't want to take anything else. I know of a couple of Christian counsellors so I think I might get some help that way.
I need to go back and reread your comment quite a few times to make the most of it.
Thank you again. x
Kay in Cornwall

Pen Wilcock said...

:0)

xx

Jenna said...

It's nice to know there is at least one other untrainable human on the planet.

And as to inadequacy, I picked up a paint brush about 8 months ago, the first time in four decades. You wanna know about feeling completely out of one's depth?

--Jenna

Pen Wilcock said...

Oh, I can imagine! Blessings on your creativity and skill!

Nearly Martha said...

Well I'm certainly looking forward to anything you write. Also, I have a cold. Just sharing that. (Not the cold - the misery) I always feel that I am fat with rubbish hair when I don't feel well and it is strangely encouraging to see other people sometimes feel the same :-)

Pen Wilcock said...

Oh, no! May you be quickly all better and feeling well again. xx

BLD in MT said...

An original mind. I like that phrase. And, Ah, blessing upon that in a world increasingly full of followers/sheep/carboncopies. But, yes. That must be hard. I often feel at odds with the culture I live in and the people I walk it with--even those I love so very dearly. The things they value are rubbish to me (i.e Black Friday deals) and I am sure it is likewise on their end (i.e. making your own soap). And I am arguable much more typical than you, my friend. :) So, my heart feels for you predicament.

In regards to your writing: Maybe your books are perfect just because you write without the pretense of skill or training and just from what you know and feel in your body and soul. I certainly haven't read all of them, but those I have were very worthwhile, thoughtful, and thought-provoking reading.

Pen Wilcock said...

Thank you!

:0)

xx

Katrina said...


I talk to the squirrels and birds, and live my life very different than most. I"m okay with it, but others around me not so much. God calls people differently in life, and I"m most definitely a black sheep.

I"m on the scale of autism a bit (Aspie) and they have a name for normal folks, Neuro Typicals. NTs for short. It's kind of bad but when I have to touch all the soft lovely things in the thrift store and get judgmental looks for laughing out loud at something crazy, it fits.

People get upset at how we navigate the world ourselves, and I just don't understand that logic at all.

I was Youtubing about headcoverings, as I love the idea. Reality is I am wearing my nightgown all day today and haven't shaved my legs in half a year LOL :D

Pen Wilcock said...

Hi Katrina — good to hear from you! :0) x

Anonymous said...

This writing is so precious to me.

(In case of any doubt of meaning, in this faceless and silent comment box, I mean precious in the dictionary sense of dear, beloved, highly esteemed for some spiritual, nonmaterial, or moral quality.)