The Struggle To Be Present

Of all the symptoms of anxiety that I exhibit, the one that I find particularly challenging is withdrawal.

It can be insidious, creeping up slowly, bit by bit, to the point that I don’t even realize that I’m shrinking into my protective shell. Often there is no warning, a complete lack of indication that anything is amiss. And then…I’m gone.

The duration of my stay can vary, based on factors both internal and external. If it’s a particularly stressful time, there’s a good chance I’ll have more difficulty extricating myself from the clutches of withdrawal. It sometimes takes prompting from family, first for me to recognize that I’ve been gone, and then to put myself on the track to coming back from whence I traveled.

My lovely wife came back from a trip to India with a copy of The Buddha at War, my introduction to the concepts and philosophy of the Buddha self. I found it remarkably helpful because it addressed many of the inexplicable confusions that I faced. From the perspective of never-ending change and the theory of impermanence to the idea of how the illusion of control had driven some of the behaviors I was seeking to change, Buddhist examples provided a beginners roadmap for my trek to getting better, whatever that meant.

But the most powerful message I took from my first reading of the book was how important it was for me to be present. In order to be fully aware and engaged, I had to be here now. That’s not as simple as it sounds, even for someone who might not share my struggle. Physical presence is rather easy to evidence – you’re either here or you’re not. It’s sort of hard to argue that point with a loved one. Am not. Am too! Feh.

Emotional and spiritual presence is a whole different animal. We’ve all been through seminars and training sessions at work or school that dealt with developing listening skills. “What I hear you saying is….”

That’s not being present. Full engagement – actively choosing to participate completely, unequivocally, to the exclusion of intruding thoughts or emotions – aye, that’s the challenge. And it’s not easy at all.

Once you’ve been present, it’s hard to cheat and pretend that you’re there when you’re not. People know. They’ve seen the difference in you, the quality, the…well….presence. It’s like pornography. It can be a little difficult to define, but you know it when you see it. Perhaps you’ve experienced that level of engagement with someone before. If so, you’ll know what I mean.

And it’s draining, especially for an introvert with anxiety issues. Two strikes there. But the rewards, to me and to others, are so rich, so profound, that when I do it, it’s time well spent. I’m tired, but it’s a productive kind of tired, a weariness born of achievement.

Being present – practicing mindfulness – is a very healthy way to overcome the anxiety that is always around the corner, waiting for the opportunity to pounce. When you have a quiet mind, it’s impossible to feel panic and stress. And how do you develop a quiet mind? The same way you get to Broadway – practice, practice, practice.

I’ll write more about mindfulness and being present in the months ahead, because it’s such an important part of my journey. Being present is a very good thing, and I wish it on everyone, anxious or not.

If you’d like an interesting view, I’d recommend Pema Chodron’s essay, Learning to Stay.