There's a lot that can overwhelm us in this world.
Big things: Will I graduate from college, or tank on my five classes in this final semester? Will I make it into law school? If this person likes me, romantically, how should I proceed? Will my anxiety always be a part of me?
Even larger things: Is this country headed towards a period of oppression for other communities, for minorities? What can I do to about this? Why do people seem to not be able to communicate to each other across belief systems, ideologies, and political sides anymore?
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And then the small, in-the-moment things: I have one semester left to spend with my friends, and they're going out ice skating, but there's also a protest going on two cities over against the federal administration's mishandling of immigrants. I want to believe my peers when they say I deserve a break, but I feel privileged, blessed even, and so I want to help and support others who haven't been gifted with a good life/education/household; or feel like their blessings are about to be taken from them.
So, why did I decide to go ice skating instead?
At the time, I thought I was just being selfish. And I gave into that notion and still decided to go, knowing I wouldn't be able to attend both the ice skating and the protest. I held onto that fear the car ride over to the Clearwater Ice Arena, ashamed at my decision, when there were others out there I could I could be advocating for.
"What about the gay couple who can't ice skate without being bullied and ridiculed? What about foreign immigrants who won't be able to skate with their families in America anymore because they're going to be deported?"
It sounds crazy, but my brain works in crazy spirals of guilt. And it really felt hypocritical that I would blog about what activists "should be doing" when I was going out with my friends for hours to skate, on a huge protest weekend.
I had gotten so distracted, that it was only when I arrived at the rink that I realized I hadn't brought any warm clothes. Frustrated, I paid the $15 for skates, and a blanket to borrow. My friends were all smiles, laughing and joking. Now my thoughts shifted to another guilt–– Why couldn't I just let these things go and enjoy a nice time with my friends? How long had it been since I'd been skating? And besides, I had already made my choice. I strapped on my skates, focusing on my breath. That's what it's like, being in the middle of anxiety: the world spins on an axis that's never in your favor.
Nervously, my friends all stepped onto the arena. I went last, tentatively dipping a foot onto the ice. Balancing was tough, and I nearly fell several times until I grabbed the wall, and, slowly, with the support of my group, moved forward. While I was out there on the ice, finding my rhythm and trusting my body to stay upright, a few thoughts came to me. Later, I wondered if they were just the products of needing to justify being out there, rather than elsewhere rallying and marching, but no, I don't think so. Here's what came to me:
-You're going to fall. I tripped and fell a few times while relearning to skate, as everyone does. But I wasn't embarrassed, not hardly. Only determined to keep going, keeping in mind what had gone wrong. In life, we're going to mess up, but more importantly, we're going to fall into patterns of "screwing up", and we have to learn that to break out of such cycles can be as easy as picking yourself up and brushing the ice off your pants.
-Balancing isn't easy. I wobbled, a lot, and often had to recenter myself just to continue. And when you're skating through life, you're often going to wobble, and, as noted above, fall. When on the ice, you have to focus on keeping yourself upright before attempting to help others. In fact, distracting them by lending hand could easily lead to the both of you slipping and falling. So it goes–– if you want to be able to properly give assistance to others, you have to be willing to do what's best for them, not just for you. Protests are great, but I wanted to go partly as a source of pride, and self-assurance. What I needed was to recenter myself, take a small break.
-Little things matter. During one of my revolutions around the rink, I remembered that the last time I had skated was a decade ago, with a friend I hadn't talked to in a year. I looked at my friends, supportive and kind, and who I love, and realized that they'd still be there for me even if I had gone to a protest instead, but I was glad I had gone with them instead. Your friends are valuable resources, and to stay healthy, you need time with them, to make connections that will last.
-There are unexpected circumstances that can calm you. The ice did that for me, in the two hours we were out there. I settled into a groove while skating, feeling the brisk frost, the bend in my knees, the quiet echo of other skaters around the area. Find what soothes you. There are challenging times, and you will need to take breaks so that you can prepare to go 'back under'. This week, I'll be going to a townhall meeting for my Senator. I'll be communicating with other activists at my college, a few of which are the friends I skated with. I'll be planning future protests to attend, and doing the activist events that won't go away, even if you miss one weekend of them.
There's a lot that can overwhelm us in this world. And there's a lot that we feel we need to do in order to break past that laundry list of stress in our heads. But as your fighting off anxieties, take a minute to think about ice skating, or whatever calms you. Go calm yourself by doing it, even.
