anxiety

Isolation is not solitude and God is good

One of the reasons the c-vid lockdowns were so hard on me personally is that it is very easy for me to stay home for extended periods of time without leaving the house or interacting with anyone else. Isolation is my default state. And it’s simply not healthy. 

It takes a lot of effort, and has taken a lot of spiritual work, for me to want to be around other people. Left to my own devices, I would much rather hide. With food, water, and electricity, I would gladly stay in the house for long periods of time with no interactions with the outside world. In fact, the longer I stay in, the less I want to or am capable of going out. 

I’m not talking about solitude. Solitude is a healthy spiritual state wherein a person seeks God in the quiet, alone times. I’m talking about isolation. I’m talking about turning my back on God and my fellows. 

Isolation is not about pursuing one’s spiritual depths in a quiet place. Isolation is the unhealthy practice of disconnecting with the world in order to be alone with oneself. In solitude, I practice transcending self. In isolation, I obsess over self. 

The c-vid lockdowns, for me, were about forced isolation. They exacerbated my anxiety, i.e. “self-centered fear,” and amplified my fears and insecurities around socializing. Perhaps most importantly, however, the lockdowns gave me an excuse to revert back to the agoraphobia and paranoia I had spent so many years trying to overcome. 

Outside of the spiritual work I had done, which by time c-vid hit I had largely fallen away from, martial arts, specifically Brazilian jiu-jitsu had become a major social outlet for me. In addition to being great exercise for the body and mind, jiu-jitsu was the place I went to be around other people and to connect in a healthy, positive way. But just like that, I was no longer allowed to do jiu-jitsu and I began withdrawing back into isolation. 

Before I had to stop doing it, I don’t think I fully comprehended how important jiu-jitsu had become to my life. It was where I pushed myself physically, stretched myself mentally, and where I saw and interacted with my friends in the second most intimate way I believe one person can interact with another. 

As soon as I realized that our academy was going to be shut down, I began to feel my old self creeping back in. My life started to feel like it was collapsing in on me, my connection to the outside world was being broken, and I started having anxiety attacks. 

I can honestly say that emotionally, psychologically, and spiritually, the lockdowns were one of the most challenging times of my life. So much of the spiritual and psycho-emotional progress I had made over the previous years all seemed to disappear in the blink of an eye. But it was not all bad. 

The lockdowns forced me to take a look at myself and where the foundation I had built for myself in previous years was not as sturdy as it needed to be if I were going to thrive into the future. If I’m being honest, it broke me, but in this brokenness, I began to pray. I began asking God to take away the things that I was holding onto that were blocking me from being the person he wanted and needed me to be. And God answered my prayers. 

Over the course of several years, what was at first brokenness turned out to be exactly the spiritual death I needed in order to be reborn as God would have me. I began seeing a therapist who helped me reconnect with my spiritual path. I reconnected with the religion of my childhood, Christianity, in a new, deeper, and more personal way. I refocused my efforts on being healthier, both physically and mentally, being a better husband and father, and being a better teacher and mentor, both in jiu-jitsu and in other aspects of my life. 

As the result of this transformation, now when I am alone, it is not isolation, but solitude because I know that I am not actually alone. God is with me and much of my alone time is in pursuit of a better relationship with him. But I also appreciate even more the time I get to spend with others, whether it be at jiu-jitsu or with my wife and daughter. 

In the end, as much as I resisted the lockdowns, everything that caused them, and all of the consequences of them, some of which we are still feeling, they helped me to see that God is ultimately in charge. He uses even the worst circumstances to draw us closer to him if we are willing, and his love does not stop pouring out into our lives simply because the world shuts down. As St. Teresa of Avila said, “God writes straight with crooked lines.” 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Grappling with mental, emotional, and spiritual health issues

In Brazilian jiu-jitsu, a martial art most well known for specializing in ground grappling, the goal is to pin and control your opponent and then submit them with either a joint lock or a strangulation. John Danaher, who many consider the sport’s greatest coach, describes it as “The art of control that leads to submission.” Greg Souders, another prevalent voice in the sport, describes jiu-jitsu as “The game of immobilization as it leads to strangulation and breaking.” 

However one chooses to describe it, the general idea of jiu-jitsu is the same: take your opponent to the ground and, using superior angles, positioning, and leverage, make it difficult or impossible for them to escape. Then, isolate and attack their arm, leg, or neck, and apply sufficient force to either break said arm or leg or cut off the blood or oxygen supply through the neck until your opponent taps in submission. 

Of course, this is all easier said than done. Every advantage must be earned when dealing with a fully resisting opponent or training partner. The person you are trying to pin and submit is also trying to pin and submit you. It’s a constant struggle. It’s a battle of wills as much as it’s a battle of skill, pride, strategy, and athleticism. Everything in jiu-jitsu matters, and nothing in jiu-jitsu is easy. That’s one of the reasons it is such a rewarding practice to participate in. 

With this in mind, a shared joke in jiu-jitsu is to yell, “Just stand up!” When someone is pinned and struggling to escape, it’s simple advice but often quite difficult to act on, especially against a resisting opponent and the force of gravity working against you. For this reason, “Just stand up!” is often said with sarcasm and received with scorn or laughter, depending on the recipient’s mood. 

Much like “Just stand up!” in jiu-jitsu is absurd advice to give someone who is pinned under a resisting opponent, “Just get over it!” is ridiculous advice to give to a person suffering from grief, depression, anxiety, trauma, addiction, or some other psycho-emotional ailment. While it may seem like helpful advice from the onlooker’s perspective, it is often less than useless for the person struggling with whatever issues they are experiencing. These usually well-intentioned comments can even exacerbate the recipient’s mental, emotional, or spiritual health issues by diminishing their seriousness and making it seem as though it is merely a lack of effort that is preventing them from being overcome. 

Like jiu-jitsu, our mental, emotional, and spiritual health is complicated. Many forces are working against us as we try to persevere through this thing we call life. While those of us being pinned by another jiu-jitsu practitioner would love to “Just stand up!” and those of us grappling with mental, emotional, and spiritual health issues would love to “Just get over it!” there’s usually more to it than that. As hard as we are fighting, our opponent is also fighting back, and sometimes we are outmatched. 

Sometimes, our opponent is bigger, stronger, faster, or more skilled than us, and we cannot escape our difficulties alone. Sometimes, we need help. This is true in both jiu-jitsu and in life. No one ever became a jiu-jitsu world champion without a coach, or several coaches, and a variety of skilled training partners. If you are struggling with mental or emotional health issues, don’t assume you can do it alone, either. 

When I was at my absolute lowest in my addiction, I had to come to accept that I could not overcome my problem by myself. I needed help. My parents helped me get into rehab. The rehab facility helped me get into a halfway house. The halfway house helped get me in touch with people who could lead me out of addiction and into a spiritual experience that would solve my problem. It took the proverbial village to raise me from spiritual, emotional, and psychological death. 

Likewise, many years later, when I finally admitted that I was struggling with anxiety and depression, I didn’t simply “muscle my way out of it.” I couldn’t. I couldn’t “Just stand up!” and “Just get over it!” I couldn’t do it alone; once again, I needed help. I needed my wife’s support to work through my issues; I needed friends who had been through similar problems and who could recommend good therapists; I required the therapists themselves, and finally, but most importantly, I needed God to guide me through all of this as I found my way back to him. 

Whatever you are grappling with, whether it is another person or your demons, know that you are not the first to struggle with this issue; you won’t be the last person to do so, and you are not alone. Countless other people have had whatever problem you are having and are willing to help you. Don’t waste your time trying to “Just stand up!” or “Just get over it!” You can’t. I couldn’t. We can’t. 

We all need help, and we all need each other. I love you, and we love you. Please do not give up. You are truly not alone. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Guidelines for a morning prayer practice

I tend to overcomplicate and overthink things, and this often results in my being overwhelmed and overextended. If I don’t have a routine and a structure to my day, I can be all over the place and the time will get away from me without my ever having actually accomplished anything. It’s not that I just sit around doing nothing, but that I lack focus, or rather that I get overly focused on the wrong things or too many things and gain no headway on anything. 

I’ve never been diagnosed, but it’s quite possible that I have some level of ADHD. When I was a kid, ADHD diagnoses were much more rare and, not being physically hyperactive, I suppose I didn’t cause enough trouble to warrant attention. It wasn’t until I was in my early 40’s that it occurred to me that ADHD doesn’t necessarily mean a person has to be physically hyperactive, but it can also mean that they are mentally hyperactive with no outward signs of hyperactivity at all. 

Following this train of thought, I reflected back on my life and my complete inability to pay attention to things that didn’t interest me, coupled with an absolutely laser focused obsessive attention on things that did. In school, I either got A’s or I got C’s and D’s. It all depended upon my level of interest in the subject or the teacher. Eventually, I found things outside of school that interested me more than school and I stopped attending altogether. 

Fast forward many years and this dichotomy of inattentiveness toward things that don’t interest me and obsessiveness toward things that do still rings true. It’s both a blessing and a curse, a double-edged sword if you will. However, by accepting to the best of my ability the truth of who I am and how my mind works, I have learned to harness this aspect of my nature as more of a feature than a bug. 

As an aside, I have a friend who insists that there is no such thing as ADHD. He states that there are two types of people: farming-minded people and hunter-gatherer-minded people. Farming-minded people, he theorizes are those who can sit still, stay in one place for extended periods of time, and pay attention, even when it’s boring. Hunter-gatherer-minded people, on the other hand, are always active, can’t sit still, and tend to be always on the go, unable to stay focused on the mundane, but capable of completely obsessing over that which interests them. 

Either way, not wanting to be a victim of my own mind, I have had to develop certain tools that make it possible for me to focus on what matters and accomplish the things that need to get done. Perhaps the most important tool in my toolbox is routine. Having a set routine, at least to the degree that it is possible without being overly rigid or driving my wife crazy, helps me get more of the important things done without my mind wandering to all of the unimportant things that distract me from my goals. One of my most important routines is my morning prayer hour. 

Almost every morning, I wake up at around 5:30am to do my morning prayers. Some days, I wake up earlier and some days I give myself the grace to wake up later, but it usually averages out to around 5:30am. This time is significant because it’s an hour before my daughter wakes up to get ready for school and I need that full amount of time to give the time to my prayers that feels best for me. 

One challenge with whatever condition I have, whether it be ADHD or hunter-gatherer mind, is that I can even overcomplicate prayer. For this reason, I have created a set of guidelines for myself that keep me on track. I don’t always adhere to these guidelines perfectly and if I tried to, I’d probably get burned out, but I use them as guardrails to ensure that I stay the course. 

The guidelines I made for myself are strict, but the order is not strict. In fact, the order is one place where I give myself flexibility so that I can follow the spirit, as it were, and also so that I don’t get bored. Keeping this in mind, here is a list of the things that I require of myself during my morning prayer hour. Again, the order changes from day to day. 

  1. Biblical Reading: I use the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops’ daily Bible readings for mass which I receive in my email inbox every morning. This allows me not to have to think about what to read from day-to-day. The readings are provided for me so I can save that creative thought energy for some other task. 
  2. 20 Minutes of Silent Prayer: I use the Centering Prayer app. I’ve been using this app for quite some time now. It’s free, simple to use, and follows Father Thomas Keating’s guidelines for centering prayer. There are plenty of other prayer and meditation apps out there and I’ve tried several, but this one just seems to suit me for now. 
  3. Spiritual Reading: This is where I really let the spirit guide me. I have a stack of books next to my prayer chair and I am in the middle of several of them at any given time. Did someone say ADHD? Some of these books are old books of spiritual wisdom, some are more modern, and some are books of spiritual quotes or sayings. Some days I read a little bit from a few of them and other days I stick to just one. This freedom keeps me interested which is what makes the practice sustainable for me. 
  4. Spiritual Writing: Every day, I write and publish something for my blog Meditations of a Gentle Warrior. These are short prayer-like poems (Psalms?) which serve multiple purposes for me. On one hand, they help me listen to what I feel like God is saying to me and to channel that creatively. On the other hand, these prayer-poems are an act of sharing. I put them into the world with the hope that some reader somewhere may feel moved by upon reading them and, therefore, by God through them, bringing that person closer to him. Additionally, I feel called to creativity and writing is one way by which I answer that call. 

As I stated above, these are merely guidelines. I follow them to the best of my ability, but I’m not perfect. That said, at night when thinking about the following day, I always take this prayer hour into consideration. My time with God in the morning has become the most important part of my day. With it, I feel closer to him. Without it, as my therapist once said, “It’s amazing how quickly things fall apart.” 

Adhering to this structure may seem burdensome to some, like it robs one of spontaneity and creativity, but I find the opposite to be true. By starting my day off with structure, with a routine, I don’t have to think about what I’m going to do first thing in the morning. I know exactly how the first part of my day is going to go, give or take. By not wasting precious energy and attention on the beginning of my day, I am therefore freed up to direct that energy and attention elsewhere, like on my daughter and my wife. 

It’s important to note that I did not develop this routine overnight. It has been worked out over a long period of time with things added and removed as the spirit directs me, but I have been using this iteration for a while and it seems to be a good fit for me for now. As my wife says to our daughter, “Subject to change.” It’s a practice and the important thing is that it requires practice. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Driving in the moment

I’m old enough to remember driving without a GPS. In fact, when I started driving, computer programs like MapQuest and the like did not yet exist, so we couldn’t just type our location and destination into a computer to print out our route. We simply had to know where we were going. If we couldn’t figure it out, we had use a map or ask for directions. 

As a teenager, I don’t even think I wrote directions down. If I didn’t know how to get where I was going, I’d ask someone and then I would just go. If I got lost, I would either find my way or I would ask for help, usually by calling someone from a payphone to guide me in the right direction. Once I went somewhere, especially if it was somewhere local, without even trying, I could get there again from memory. 

When I traveled through different states, I would pick up the state map at a welcome center or a rest stop and stuff it in my glovebox in case I needed it. For years, I traveled up and down the east coast visiting family with nothing more than my memory, a set of handwritten directions, and a handful of free state maps. My friend and I even traveled to the deep south multiple times a year for blues festivals, putting tens of thousands of miles on my car and, except on a few rare occasions in new places, almost never got lost. 

This all changed when I became a commercial coffee-equipment repair-technician fixing espresso machines and such in and around Washington DC. I was only on the job for a few days when I realized I was in over my head. I had to travel from store to store fixing coffee equipment, in and out of the city, and time was of the essence. 

Now, I was driving for a living in an unfamiliar and confusing place, and especially if I wanted to get home at a decent hour, I couldn’t afford to get lost. GPS units had been out for a while at this point – I remember my father showing me the one he had – but they were still very expensive. After driving in circles between DC and Arlington, VA one day for about an hour trying to figure out where I was going, I finally broke down and made the investment. 

That was nearly twenty years ago and I have been using a GPS in one capacity or another ever since. I’ve been through several dashboard or windshield mounted units, but now it’s simply an app on my phone. Specifically, I use an app called Waze these days because it offers free, crowdsourced traffic, police, and hazard updates which are updated in real time. 

Waze is great and I am sure that has helped me avoid many hours worth of traffic jams, as well as tickets from police speed traps. For this reason, I have found myself using it even when I know where I am going and how to get there. I realized recently, however, that this convenience does not come without its cost. 

At some point in recent years, I started having anxiety about being stuck in traffic, in tunnels, and in any other situation I feel like I can’t easily get out of. It’s something I’ve been working through in therapy and also with my prayer and meditation practice. In spite of having made an amazing amount of progress in this area, I still have moments here and there when my anxiousness gets the best of me. 

One such incident happened a month or so ago when we were meeting some friends in the Baltimore for dinner. In order to get where we were going, we had to go through the Harbor Tunnel and, having never been to this particular restaurant before, I had Waze up on my phone to tell me where to go. It was getting late, it was dark, and I was exhausted from a particularly long week. 

As we approached the tunnel, I began getting anxious. Recognizing whet was happening, I started to think through the situation a bit in an attempt to overcome this feeling that was welling up inside me. Then, the thought came to me, “Is God anxious about driving through tunnels?” 

What this really meant, at least in my mind, was, “What part of you is anxious about driving through the tunnel? Is it the part of you where God resides or is it something else?” I then said a prayer asking God to give me the courage to get through this moment and he did. My fear began to fade, I drove through the tunnel, and we got where we were going. 

After a nice dinner with friends, we got in the car, and I began driving home. As we approached the Harbor Tunnel this time, I could see on Waze that there was traffic building up inside the tunnel and, because of this, the average speed in the tunnel at that time was around 20mph. I immediately panicked and pulled off the highway onto a side street. 

I don’t know what it is, but the thought of being trapped in traffic in the tunnel was simply too much for me and I decided to find a different way to get home. Waze rerouted me and I ended up driving through the city, eventually finding myself entering the Fort McHenry Tunnel which had no traffic backing up in it. This unnecessary detour added at least thirty minutes to my drive home, not to mention what it did to my dignity. 

Over the next few days, I stared to notice a pattern, however. Everywhere I went, I put Waze on to get there. If it showed delays due to traffic, hazards, or whatever, I would start to get anxious. This happened even when I wasn’t in a hurry. 

Then it occurred to me that I was doing this to myself. I was causing myself unnecessary stress by using Waze to look into the future and then obsessing about problems I didn’t even have yet. I was using my GPS to take me out of the moment and it was messing with my peace. 

So I decided to try an experiment. For the foreseeable future, I would go old school. I would stop using Waze, or any other GPS, to get to places I knew how to get to. If I was worried about traffic, I would simply have to leave earlier to account for it, but other than some initial GPS withdrawal, a funny thing happened. I stopped worrying about what was up ahead, and I started focusing on what was in front of me. 

My GPS was taking me out of the moment. It allowed me to abdicate responsibility for my timeliness and even my speed, and, instead of using it as a tool, I had started relying on it to make decisions for me. I was serving my GPS more than my GPS was serving me, and it was distracting me from being present to what was actually going on around me. 

I’m not blaming Waze for my anxiety. Anxiety is a complex, multifaceted issue. However, one of my main anxiety triggers is projecting too far into the future. I have a very strong imagination and when I predict the future, it’s always the apocalypse. I am, therefore, happier and more at peace living in the present moment whenever I can. As silly as it may seem, in addition to my meditation and mindfulness practices, driving without a GPS unless I truly need it is just one small way I can help myself do that.

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Praying for courage

I’ve been a public speaker on and off in various venues for the past twenty seven or so years. Most of my talks have revolved around recovery from drug and alcohol addiction, and the relationship with God that made my recovery possible. It’s a subject with which I have intimate knowledge and about which I am extremely passionate. And yet, I still get nervous before I speak.

I have spoken at countless venues in front of a variety of audiences, and it has always worked out. With the exception of one or two talks many years ago when my anxiety got the best of me, things have always gone well. Even in those rare one or two rare cases, I was able to pivot and pull it off.

Time and time again, my experience has proven that I have nothing to fear, I’m not an imposter, and things are going to be fine. Most importantly, however, my experience has proven that God will not abandon me, that he loves me, provides for me, and protects me. He has never let me down. And yet, I still get nervous before I speak.

I often wonder what it would be like to have perfect faith. That is, what would it be like to trust God implicitly, always, to fear nothing, and to never worry? While I do believe that this state of perfect faith is possible, if only because I believe that, for God all things are possible, I have a long way to go before I achieve it.

I have had brief moments of perfect faith. But like most people, I’m flawed and broken, impatient and untrusting, and I try to control things that are either out of my control or that would be better left to God. Precisely because of this brokenness, when I get nervous before I speak, and even when I don’t, I find a quiet space to pray. My fear is my own, but my courage comes from God.

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

In stillness

“I invite you to sit still, sit straight, fold your hands and bow. Repeat after me:
Be still, and know that I am God (Psalm 46:10 NIV).
Be still, and know that I am.
Be still, and know.
Be still.
Be.” 

Followed by several minutes of silence, this simple, but beautifully powerful prayer is how Dr. James Finley closes out each podcast episode of Turning to the Mystics. In addition to leading theTurning to the Mystics podcast with co-host Kristen Oats, Dr. Finley is an author, clinical psychologist, retreat leader, public speaker, and former student of the late, modern mystic Thomas Merton. In each episode, drawing from his vast knowledge of and experience with the material, Dr. Finley gives listeners modern, practical perspective on the writings and teachings of various figureheads in the Christian mystical tradition. 

A now devout listener of the Turning to the Mystics podcast, which came into my life at exactly the right time (funny how God seems to always work that way), this prayer was on my mind this morning as I did my morning meditation. Being still has always been difficult for me, especially in the sense that God means it in this particular Psalm. I’m a worrier, a planner, and a doer. Sitting in silence for an extended period of time, being still and allowing God to be God, goes against every instinct I have. 

This resistance to stillness has come at a cost. Several years ago, I essentially worried, planned, and worked my way into a series of anxiety attacks. I had reached my limit, the jumping off place, where my best best ideas and my best thinking were no longer working. I was working two jobs, one of which was my own business, training jiu-jitsu as much as I could, and trying to navigate family life to the best of my ability, all while neglecting my physical, mental, and spiritual health. 

As covid swept through the world and things began to shut down, I crashed. Life came to a grinding halt and I, who had been running full speed for longer than I can remember, broke down. At the time, I had no idea what was happening, but it felt like my life, and my sanity, was ending. I couldn’t sit still, let alone be still, and I had no where to go. Forced to be with myself, undistracted by the hectic pace I to which I had grown accustomed, I crumbled under the weight of my own unresolved issues. 

Like so many times before, in this moment of desperation, I said a prayer. At the time, I didn’t know it was a prayer. I prayed on my knees every day upon awakening and before going to sleep, but this was not like that. This was my soul crying out for help. From the deepest part of my being, I admitted that what I was doing wasn’t working, that who I had become was not who I was intended to be, and that I couldn’t go on anymore like this. 

I’d like to say that I changed immediately and all was well from that moment on, but the truth is that it has been a long, difficult road from there to here. Along the way, I began working with a therapist, I left my job of twelve years and my career of almost twenty, I refocused my attention on my family and my health, and, most importantly, I was led back to my spiritual path in a deeper, more meaningful way than I previously thought possible. God is now at the center at my life where he belongs and it is easy for me to see where and how things went so wrong when, in spite of my stated beliefs and habitual prayers, my life did not reflect this simple truth. 

That brings us back to stillness. As I sat this morning to read, pray, and meditate, it occurred to me that what was once the most difficult thing in the world for me to do is now the thing that feels the most natural, the most necessary, and the most fulfilling. That, in spite of my resistance, obstinance, and even defiance, I can, and do, sit down every morning to simply be with God is nothing less than a miracle. 

In stillness, I find the peace, rest, and connection that no amount of running, chasing, or hustling was ever going to bring me. In stillness, I learn that life goes on around and without me, and that I do not have to involve myself with or react to every little thing that crosses my mind or my path. In stillness, there is freedom from boredom, worry, and desire. In stillness, I surrender to the love that sustains me. In stillness, I am allowed, or rather commanded, to merely be, to trust and know that God is God.

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Finding God’s purpose in a snowstorm

As the snow began to fall, I grew increasingly anxious. The feeling of inevitability settled upon me like a heavy weight being laid upon my chest. My mind raced in denial as my schedule, my plans, and my desires for the coming day and an unknown number of days to follow began to slowly disappear with each falling flake. Then the messages started pouring in. 

“With the snow coming, should we cancel classes?” “Are we closed tomorrow?” “What are our plans for tomorrow? It looks like the roads are going to be bad.” 

With every text, my mind rebelled, rejecting the idea that I was going to be stuck in the house, the momentum of my life coming to a grinding halt because of some snow. I grew increasingly irritated at the thought that my appointments, my jiu-jitsu classes, and my daughter’s school would all be canceled for what amounted to less than a foot’s worth of accumulation. 

Putting out of my mind other people’s concerns, their safety, and their wishes, an argument started up in my mind. “I grew up in the Northeast,” I thought, “We got way more snow than this and we still went to school. My father still went to work. He woke up early to shovel and went about his day. What is wrong with people here? They are always looking for any excuse to stay home and it’s ruining my plans.” 

Then the thought came to me, “What are you really bothered by? What are you afraid of? Do you think you are in charge of all of this? Even if you show up to open the academy, no one else is coming to train with you this morning. They are dealing with their own problems. They have their own kids and jobs to worry about. Why are you so bothered by the idea of staying home with your family, of being still, of being stuck with yourself?”

As I sat with these thoughts and feelings for a while, I said a prayer, asking God what He was trying to teach me, asking what the lesson in all of this was, and asking Him to use this moment of anxiousness, resistance, and discomfort for His purpose. After a bit, I began to settle down and accept the situation for what it was, for what all circumstances, pleasant or unpleasant are, and that is an opportunity for God to express His love for us and for us to either accept or reject that love. 

Did I want the academy to be shut down for snow? Did I want to stay home all day? Did I want my daughter to miss school (she loves school)? To all of these questions, the answer was a resounding, “No!” However, I also had to ask myself, “Do I trust my Heavenly Father? Do I long to know His will and to serve His purpose? Do I have faith that He is not doing this, whatever ‘this’ I happen to be upset about now, to punish me, but to teach, guide, and shape me in His image?” Yes, of course, yes, even if that “Yes” is the reluctant “Yes” of a child who, having just been scolded for throwing a tantrum, knows he was wrong for doing so. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

I reserve the right to give myself a break

I reserve the right to give myself a break.

For years, decades if I’m being honest, I never gave myself a break. I took days off and I took vacations, but I never really rested. I just pushed and pushed and pushed until one day it broke me.

I broke from doing too much, from never slowing down, and most importantly, from not knowing how to say “No.” One day, my whole world came to a screeching halt and my body and mind shut down.

I began to have anxiety attacks. I was forced to take a break. I was forced to rest. I was forced to reevaluate my life and my priorities.

A lot of healing has happened since then, but I still have the capacity to overcommit, to overwork, and to put too much unnecessary pressure on myself. But now, when I feel that happening, I reserve the right to slow down, to unburden myself, and to take a break as needed.

My mental, emotional, and spiritual health require that I rest, but it took me pushing myself to the breaking point to realize that.

Anxious or simply exhausted

Have you ever been so tired that you thought you were having an anxiety attack?

I recently drove my wife and daughter to New Jersey to visit family. We had an event to be at by 11am and it usually takes about four hours to get there. In order to account for the unexpected, we woke up at around 5am to leave by 6am.

The trip went smoothly and we were actually early, so early in fact that I has time to stop by a jiu-jitsu academy I’ve visited a few times prior for some morning training before going to our event.

We went to our event, grabbed some food, and then went to our hotel to check in. I tend not to eat or drink very much while I’m driving because food makes me tired and fluids make me have to pee, both of which make the trip take longer.

This, combined with waking up early, and the general stress of being on the road all morning, and I was in a somewhat fragile state. As a highly sensitive person, I had put a lot of strain on my body and mind over the course of the day.

My wife took my daughter to the hotel pool and I laid down for a nap. But as I laid there trying to rest, I was struck by a wave of what felt like anxiety. I hadn’t had an anxiety attack in a long time so this disturbed me, but I allowed it to wash over me as I laid there with my eyes closed.

I began thinking about what could have caused the anxiety I was feeling and I concluded that I wasn’t over-stressed or worried. In fact, nothing was really wrong at all. I was just tired, so tired that my body and mind had had enough.

I had basically pushed myself as far as I could go and now I was feeling the effects of that. What felt like anxiety was really just me being overly tired, dehydrated, and hungry. I wasn’t having an anxiety attack. I just needed some food, water, and a nap.