Refractory Anxiety
I am supposed to arrive at the wedding rehearsal at 4 p.m.
I planned on arriving 15–20 minutes early.
Because I don’t like being late.
However, I took a wrong turn.
At the intersection of the I-5 South and the I-405 South, I went the wrong way.
Now, I’ll have to turn around in a mile and a half and deal with the horrible traffic I otherwise would have completely avoided.
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It’s more than I don’t like being late.
I hate being late.
I hate the feelings of inadequacy and panic that come up.
Feelings I’m having right now.
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The GPS, having figured out that the car and I are not where we are supposed to be, recalculates our position, directions, and arrival time.
A 25-minute delay.
Shit.
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“Call Anna,” I tell my very smart car.
My very smart car, which is currently on the wrong freeway—currently getting further and further from where we are supposed to be going.
Anna picks up.
“Rabbi. What’s up?”
“Oh, Anna, I fucked up. I took a wrong turn. Looks like I’m going to be fifteen minutes late.”
“Noelle and I are running late, too—about fifteen minutes, maybe more. Take your time.”
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In traffic, I observe my inner dialogue’s attempts to calm me.
“No harm, no foul.”
“They don’t care, really they don’t.”
“Anna said it’s no big deal.”
“Calm down.”
Ha.
None of these stop my negative feelings. Whatsoever.
I’m still tense.
Very tense.
Even though, on paper, it isn’t a problem.
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A “refractory period” is the time the body and mind need to recover after something scares, shocks, and/or upsets us.
It’s like the pain of stubbing a toe.
The pain spikes and recedes. It doesn’t just stop.
Our nervous systems don’t stop being on high alert just because the immediate threat is gone.
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This is why, not once in the history of ever, has it worked to tell someone to “just calm down.”
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I want to be calm, but physiologically, it just isn’t an option.
Yet.
Best thing I can do while my amygdala’s stress response settles down?
Be kind to myself.
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My refractory anxiety long passed, the car and I get to the rehearsal.
All smiles.
We run through the blocking of the ceremony.
Everything’s good.
But not as good as Anna and Noelle’s wedding the next day.
