I’m Anxious

For some time now, I’ve felt something stirring inside me, something I can’t quite pinpoint. I remember when I started my life as an event organizer in the university’s student office… as important events approached, anxiety would hit me. I could feel it physically. The most common symptom was that I couldn’t breathe properly. I’d try to take a big, deep breath to fill my lungs, but I couldn’t. It got stuck somewhere high up. I’d try to yawn or use some technique to get more air, but it didn’t work.

But it got worse than that…

I remember one time when I suddenly noticed that one of my legs seemed shorter than the other. I even limped for a day or two. I was seriously scared—what on earth could that be? I sat down and tried to figure it out. How could one leg be shorter than the other? It couldn’t. That’s impossible. This had to be something psychological… And as soon as I talked myself through it, I stopped limping.

Then, in 2017, there was a period of a few weeks when my heart was beating irregularly. I could clearly feel it—it was pounding erratically, with the occasional hard, strong thud. What the hell? What should I do? Google! I looked up information about arrhythmias. Stress! Okay, but what am I stressed about? Ah, in a few weeks, I’m giving a presentation in Rome—in English. Great, except I don’t really speak English… But at least I figured it out. And it didn’t go away 🙂 I couldn’t do much, so I just cut down on my daily coffee intake and tried to survive the lead-up to the presentation. I made it. And since then, my heart’s been fine.

I Can’t Breathe!

But now, what’s going on? For the past 3–4 weeks, that old familiar “I can’t breathe” feeling is back. What should I do? What could be wrong? What can I try?

A few years ago, I saw a video by Zoltán Cser, a Buddhist teacher. I don’t remember the exact topic, but it was something about not fighting against situations like this—or against ourselves. Instead, we should try to understand this side of us. Invite the demon into your house, sit down for tea with it. Get to know it, and through understanding, clarity will come, and the situation will resolve itself.

I CAN’T BREATHE!

Okay, I get it. I’m trying not to stress about the fact that I don’t even know what I’m stressing about, so much so that I can’t breathe. I don’t want to solve it; I just want to understand it. So, let’s try to get to know it. How? Let’s use an old trick—break it down. What’s bothering me? Let’s assume I’m anxious about something that isn’t just buried in my subconscious. Why? Because if the cause is subconscious, I can’t break it down. I can only process what I know. The word itself suggests this: I know.

So, I know.

If I know but can’t immediately recall it, then my mind is likely trying to manage it in a way that downplays its importance while still making it significant enough to stop me from breathing. Pff. What’s been on my mind:

What will happen to my sons? My sons are in the stage of life where they’re slowly detaching from the family. Could I be anxious about that? Am I afraid of losing control over them? Am I scared they won’t live the way I’d want them to? If they’re not successful, happy, recognized—or whatever—would that reflect on me as a failure? Would I fail as a parent? Can I accept that they might live differently than I do, that their idea of success might be different—whatever that may be? My rational mind says: of course! I trust them! Let them live as they wish! Am I sure?

What will happen to my career? It’s been two and a half years since I retired. Since then, I’ve been on a journey of self-discovery, helping others build businesses, supporting leaders, learning—doing plenty of useful things. But is this a career? Do I have a goal? Can my goal be to search for a goal? Do I have a plan? Can a plan simply be to keep an open mind, to talk, to learn, and to discover my purpose? Can I make money this way? Can I live off of this? If my capital income is enough, do I need to have income from work? No. Right? No? I don’t know. Do I need it, or do I just want it? Until I was 47, I needed it. From the age of 18, I supported myself. That’s almost 30 years, and it’s been just over two years since then. My mind has adjusted, but have I truly accepted it deep down? My mom still asks me: “Son, do you have a job yet?”

I’m Anxious.

Could this be existential anxiety? As irrational, illogical, and ridiculously funny as it seems, even to me? Mentally, everything is fine. Fine. And let me write it one more time to be sure: fine. When I think about what could be wrong, the answer is: nothing. But something must be, because I really, really can’t breathe. And when I dig deep, these two themes are the only ones that come to mind. Could they be the cause? Could it be one of them? Or is there something buried deep inside, quietly choking me? I don’t know.

What Should I Do?

I talk about it. Sometimes with myself, sometimes with my partner, sometimes with my friends. Every time I say it out loud, it gets a little better. It feels a bit like that repressed thought—that thing inside my throat—desperately clings to something, trying to escape from the depths to the surface, to take shape in words and break free.

Well…

…I let it go.

Let it run free, let it escape from me.

The article was originally published on the vendler.hu blog.

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