• Anxiety: It Often Gets the Best of Me

    I was an anxious kid, an even more anxious teen. So much so that the nuns at my Catholic school let me skip mass each morning because of how often I threw up or fainted. Even in college, I did so now and again. And while it’s been decades since, anxiety once again has become a near-constant companion, in large part due to COVID.

    And I’m not the only one who is anxious.

    The World Health Organization (WHO) reported that anxiety increased by 25% across the globe in the first year of the pandemic. And this fall, a panel of medical experts recommended for the first time that doctors screen all patients under the age of 65 for anxiety which, involves asking questions about symptoms: How often do you feel nervous, anxious or on edge? Do you have trouble concentrating? Does worry present you from falling or staying asleep?

    I’m not sure why I and all the rest of us age 65 and older aren’t covered by the WHO’s recommendation, but I do believe we ought to be. After all, it’s not like anxiety goes away with age. In fact, I and many of my friends and colleagues who are 65+ report an increase in anxiety, in part because we no longer have the self-esteem and support system that came with our jobs. Health issues are also a factor.

    Some of us also report an increase in hang-xiety, which is anxiety some people experience after drinking alcohol. I certainly did shortly after the start of the pandemic when I found myself indulging far too often in a second or even third cocktail, which research shows can decrease dopamine, a neurotransmitter that plays an important role in keeping anxiety under control.

    It’s one reason why I reluctantly gave up drinking this year. It’s also why I’m doing other things as well:  

    Journaling

    Setting reasonable goals

    Striving for progress, not perfection

    Asking for help and support

    Trying eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) therapy

    I’m also admitting that I’m struggling. Doing so has been tough for me but it’s getting easier thanks to the love and support of family, friends and my fellow writers/Word Sisters.

    , , , ,

    4 responses to “Anxiety: It Often Gets the Best of Me”

    1. Ann Coleman Avatar

      I think anxiety is much more common than we think. And your coping tools are very good!

    2. Karen Martha Avatar

      In going through a bout of anxiety myself, I love all the suggestions above. They work when the anxiety is a low amount. On the other hand, when anxiety is bad enough that you seek treatment, the suggestions can be quite difficult to carry out. EMDR helped me a few years ago when I had a different bout of anxiety. Hang in there. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, what goes up, goes down.

    3. Eliza Waters Avatar

      Oh, yeah, I can relate big-time, Bev. I fell apart last winter and am just now feeling like I’m coming out of the deep water. It took an antidepressant to do that, on top of yoga, long walks in nature, therapy and massage. Glad you sought help, that first step is the hardest. ❤️

    4. wrytr Avatar

      I love you, Bev. You always have something interesting, thoughtful and important to say. I think anxiety is physical as well as mental (fainting is the body’s response to “get me the hell outta here”!) and the best cure is nature.

      We humans, Americans in particular, especially city-dwellers, tend to be more disconnected from nature than is good for us, given that we’re… y’know… animals.

      Pets help. Houseplants help. But there’s nothing for anxiety like a good, long walk in the woods, a strenuous hike up a mountain, or a day at the beach, a brisk hour skating on ice. We all have the ability to get in touch with nature every day—despite the wind and snow, despite the dry heat, despite whatever conditions we find ourselves in, as long as there’s a window, or a nature sounds app or five minutes to close our eyes and just breathe (air being the most basic element of nature there is).

      I remember how a brisk walk around the Best Buy campus helped to clear my head when anxiety took over at work (on the daily). I think everyone should have, on their desk, a miniature sandbox, or a box of dried corn kernels like we had a Conklin’s Nursery School in Austin, Minnesota, when I was five years old. I still remember what it feels like to sift handfuls of corn, how calming that is.

      You are so right that anxiety is not just a youthful affliction; but with age, I think acceptance becomes easier. We can look back with fondness at our youthful selves for what they believed was worth stressing about, and smile, knowing we’ve come through whatever-it-was with some measure of grace. Hey, we’re still alive and kicking, right?

      I hadn’t heard of “hang-xiety” but it’s interesting to note that alcohol lowers our “feel-good” dopamine levels….maybe smoothies containing brain-enhancing ginger and avocado should be the new artisan cocktails! In fact, more bars have alcohol-free cocktail menus now, have you noticed that? We went to Travail with my son and daughter-in-law who was pregnant at the time, and her n/a cocktail flight was just as tasty as our boozy one, not to mention less expensive!

      I’m curious about eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) therapy but I have to wonder…what if we all just gave ourselves more pleasure than we’re accustomed to? Wouldn’t just a bit of hedonism serve to decrease our anxiety? Life is short. I have a wealthy friend (someone you know, actually) who indulges in a new nail polish color once a week because it makes her feel good. She could buy a new wardrobe every season, but she doesn’t. Her brand of self-care works just fine.

      Then there’s travel, and purposeful work, and other remedies for anxiety that have proven themselves for centuries. I read today that there’s a hotel/b&b chain called Selina (https://www.selina.com/) where you can rent a very nice room and co-working space for $450 a month in several countries (Mexico, Israel, it’s a long list). If I still had a house in the U.S. I’d rent it out and sign up for Selina in a second.

      Final thought: you know that I’m one of at least two Word Sisters here in San Miguel who would welcome a visit from you. Just as the WaPo says “Democracy dies in darkness,” I propose that anxiety is crushed by perspective: the kind you get from nature, and from fiercely loving friendships, and from travel, and from doing anything outside your comfort zone.

      In your case, I know I speak for friends around the world: Come visit us!

  • Green Hush Puppies

    The Hush Puppies the salesman brought out were grayish green suede. In the 1960s, Hush Puppies weren’t ‘geek chic’ like Doc Martens or Uggs. They were shoes suitable for an old lady, not a 9-year-old. 

    The Hush Puppies’ black crepe soles were quiet, but I wanted the click of leather heels that made the wearer sound important, grown-up. The suede was soft and comfortable on my toes—not that I cared. I craved shiny brown penny loafers like my 4thgrade classmates wore. Unfortunately, my AA-width feet slopped around in those B-width loafers, and they slapped my heels with every step. The shoe salesman and Mom ruled them out. 

    The idea of wearing those terrible shoes brought tears to my eyes, and I might have begged for a reprieve. Mom was sympathetic but unyielding. I had to have a pair of school shoes that fit properly.

    Shoe shopping got easier by 7th grade, when I could wear women’s shoes, which offered a bigger selection. I’ve inherited narrow feet from my mother, and all of her life, she’d faced the same difficulty with finding attractive shoes that fit. Mom and I both trod the path of cute but cruel shoes and endured blisters and corns.

    When she was in her 80s, Mom succumbed to wearing plain sensible shoes for most occasions—big white sneakers or boring taupe lace-ups for everyday wear. She hated them but her feet hurt. With dress shoes, she did her best to work a compromise between style and comfort. 

    Over the years, I have spent hundreds of dollars—guilt-free—on stylish shoes and sandals to make it up to that sad 9-year-old and delight my grown self. Nonetheless, my closet is full of failed experiments. All too often I’ve discovered pairs which seemed fine but hurt my feet if I needed to really walk, not just stroll into a restaurant or party.

    I’m still trying to thread the needle: find shoes which aren’t too ugly but meet my feet’s many picky requirements. However, during a recent vacation my feet hurt every day. So, I bought some brown leather lace-ups reminiscent of Mom’s. I’ve got places to go. I need comfortable shoes to get there. At least they aren’t green suede Hush Puppies.

    , , , ,

    13 responses to “Green Hush Puppies”

    1. Karen Seashore Avatar

      I can sooo relate to this, albeit on the other end of the width spectrum — wide feet, narrow heel. Nothing cute ever fit. For many years, I bought all my shoes in The Netherlands, where lots of people apparently have feet shaped like mine and I could find cute shoes — but the Dutch seem to wear only black, so I still had a party-problem. But when we moved, giving away a closet full of really cute (and sometimes rather expensive) shoes that I will never wear again was harder than downsizing other parts of my life…

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        Sisters of the sad shoes–we are legion! Thanks for reading.

    2. Sally Showalter Avatar
      Sally Showalter

      Ellen, I just recently wrote a short piece of the ugly hush puppy shoes my mother made me wear in 8th grade. We lived in a very small town, and I walked two blocks to school. Therefore, these shoes could not be missed by anyone, the big ugly gray, black strings on two skinny toothpick legs. I pleaded not to wear them, even throwing up in the bathroom once I got to school. I have always hated hush puppies ever since. Too bad we were not classmates!

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        I love hearing your story, but I’m sorry you faced the same fight!

    3. Ann Coleman Avatar

      I feel your pain! I also have narrow feet, but the get much wider at the toes, and although I have arches, the top of my feet are rather flat. There are very few sandals I can comfortably wear for more than 15 minutes, and all the cute ones with the wide strap to go over the foot are way too big. It is frustrating, to say the least. But the party shoes you came up with look great!

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        Yeah, sandals are a trip! I’m not ready to give up on them yet. Glad you like my party shoes–flat slingbacks. No hiking, but fine for an evening out. 😉

    4. Eliza Waters Avatar

      Yes, I think we all have similar youthful distress stories! I remember having to wear brown and white saddle shoes that my three sisters had worn before me and were at least 10 years out of style…godawful! 😀

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        Funny about the hand-me-downs! I wore black and white saddle shoes too—and they weren’t cool either. 😆

    5. Karen Martha Avatar

      My parents made me wear brown oxford girl scout shoes. I used to get on my bicycle and scrape the toes while I coasted down a hill. Like you, I now indulge my inner child and buy shoes I love–although comfort is a big consideration. Fun blog!

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        Thanks for sharing your story—I think there are a lot of us out there 😉

    6. Luanne Avatar

      Although I don’t have narrow feet (but a whole host of other foot problems), I can so relate to this post. I begged and begged for the penny loafers in cord-o-van!!!! My mother kept telling me they were “faddy shoes,” and I thought she was saying “fatty shoes.” “Not good for your feet!” But eventually I wore both my parents down and got the penny loafers. However, I did, at one point, have to wear hush puppies. who else wore them? Men, that’s who. Now I still can’t wear pretty shoes, which is so annoying as it really dictates what I can wear above the shoes!!!!!

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        I love hearing your story and I definitely relate!

  • One Heck of a Hot Dog

    Volunteering with Jody and friends.

    It starts before we even leave the house. My breathing becomes short and rapid. I’m fidgety. “I’ll meet you in the car,” I tell her. I insert the key into the door lock.

    “You can’t hurry me,” Jody responds. “I’ve got 5 more minutes.”

    In the car we high five. “To a good game.”

    This cheer is needed. We will spend the next 6-10 hours together fundraising for Juan and Crystel’s education.

    Jody, Crystel, Juan and I began volunteering in April to serve food and beverage at concession stands. We’ve worked at the Excel Center, Target Center, US Bank, Allianz, Huntington Bank stadiums, Canterbury Park and others.

    “Did you just push me?” Jody asks as we step out of the elevator. I thought I was guiding her through the security gate towards the check-in stand.

    You learn a lot about yourself and each other at these events.

    I will be amped up until we return to the car for the ride home. I’m in a flight or fight mode to get the customer his/her/their slice of pizza, hot dog, chicken tenders, or fries.

    Jody feels the same adrenaline rush. We both become serious and determined. Sometimes we must remind ourselves, It’s just a hot dog.

    There is no bigger distraction or challenge than working an event. From the time the doors open, and you serve your first customer until the ball is touched in the 4th quarter, 3rd period, or the hour before the venue closes, you will do nothing else besides attending to the task in front of you.

    Usually, it’s a brief 20 second pleasant interaction with a customer.

    Sometimes it doesn’t go well.

    “Is this how big this all-beef hot dog is?” I was asked at the Vikings Cardinal game. The customer held high his still foiled hot dog. It did look especially small in his large fist.

    “Dude, I’m a volunteer. I don’t make the hotdog.” Don’t squeeze it, I wanted to add. You’ll just make it smaller.

    I’m not always at my best. At a Twins game, this guy and his two friends, who’d all had one too many, kept beeping the register scanner without waiting for his payment to go through. “Motherfucker, stop doing that,” I told him. He looked at me. I looked at him. “I guess I shouldn’t call you that,” I said. “I could get fired from my volunteer job.”

    It can get a little dicey at alcohol cutoff time when a customer isn’t ready to be cut off. At the Minnesota hockey game against North Dakota, a customer demanded that I call my boss. She knew about these things she said loudly. She had worked in concessions before. A hard cutoff was not really a hard cutoff.

    “I’m just a volunteer,” I said. I busied myself restocking as she explained to the concession managers how these things worked.

    Sitting in our living room, Jody and I will go over the event. Laughing until we cry. Sometimes it’s about how we acted towards each other during the evening. Me telling her how important it is that she marks a Twin burger a Twin burger and not a Capitol burger. She in turn will tell me that I need to stop putting the pizzas in the oven one after another as she doesn’t have enough time to take them off at the other end.

    The challenge, the unpredictability, volunteering with friends, and the variety of social groups we encounter make concession fundraising enjoyable.

    Not a bad way to spend an evening. This year, we are well on our way to raising tuition for both Juan and Crystel’s education. Now that’s one heck of a hotdog.

    ,

    2 responses to “One Heck of a Hot Dog”

    1. Bonnie Campbell Avatar
      Bonnie Campbell

      Wow! That’s fabulous! I always thought it would be fun to usher at those events.

      1. Elizabeth di Grazia Avatar
        Elizabeth di Grazia

        Bonnie so good to hear from you! Thank you so much for your continuing reading of the blog!


Recent Posts

  • Hamburger Soup

    A bowl of homemade soup could create a few minutes of comfort in this difficult winter of 2025-2026.

  • Choosing to Believe

    A few weeks ago, I visited Pearl Harbor and the USS Arizona memorial. I wasn’t sure what to expect. My father was in the Navy during WWII at Normandy and later in the Pacific. I wanted to honor his service and the legacy of my parents’ generation who sacrificed and died to preserve our democracy. I…

  • Moving On

    “Crystel’s carrying the dining room table out of the house!” Jody said, a note of panic in her voice. “Now the chairs!” Quietly, I felt proud of Crystel. She was going ahead with gumption, emptying our house while we were in Florida, not asking permission, not making a fuss. Jody kept tabs on the coming…