Tuesday, November 13, 2007

. . . and protect us from all anxiety . . .

I worry. A lot.
About a lot of things. War. Immigration. Wrestling. Hunger. Thanksgiving Dinner. Poverty. Skunks.

This morning, at 6:00, anxiety got the better of me. I woke up thinking about Will's wrestling meet this Saturday. My stomach hurt; was it food poisoning from the dinner I catered last night?
(We joke that the motto of our catering business should be "Ain't killed no one yet.")

Or, was it the fact that once again, our house is skunky?

I sat down on the couch and cried a little; Clay got his ratty golf umbrella and went scouting around the house. No signs of skunk outside. He thought perhaps the skunk had just sprayed while passing near our house.

I cried some more. If I didn't know better, I'd swear the skunk was hanging out in the garage or the basement. So, at 7:00, in a sweet attempt to get me to relax, Clay went to Home Depot to buy an ionic air purifier.

"Look," he said gleefully when he returned, "a three-pronged approach." Not only had he bought the purifier, he got a Febreeze fan "Odor Eliminator" and moth crystals -- much more potent (and probably more toxic) than plain old moth balls.

It smells better in here already.

I've had panic attacks for about 6 years --they started around 9/11 and when my dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. After a round of Paxil (lethal) and a round of Zoloft (slightly less lethal), I've almost learned to control them with exercise, prayer and meditation and an occasional Xanax.

But probably the best cure is a husband who would go out in the rain to assure me there wasn't a herd of skunks partying under our porch. Who always took the kids to the dentist. Who sweeps and mops as I am freaking out before guests arrive. Who doesn't mind if I wake him up if I've had a scary dream. And who always listens as I babble on about my latest worry, tells me to relax, hugs me and reminds me that whatever it is, we'll get through it together.

Protection from anxiety (and skunks) for almost 25 years.


Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Matthew 6: 27

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