Waiting

I am waiting. Once again waiting for workmen to do what they do: Destroy and build. Waiting is an acquired skill. At least, waiting patiently is. My anxiety of waiting stems from lack of trust. I don't mean trusting the waited-for person and/or event. I mean trusting in my own ability to cope with disappointment or surprising developments.  After all, any life situation holds the potential for divergence from my own best planning. As a recovering obsessive-compulsive, total control of my environment is an illusion I must always work to dispel. 

My practice for relieving the anxiety of waiting is simple. I occupy my mind and body with constructive use of waiting time. On a subway platform, I walk the platform's length or a circular path at one uncrowded end. This serves to keep me warm in cold weather and also keeps away anyone who might want to hustle me for some reason. They assume I am mad perhaps. Today, I am writing this blog post as I wait. This is translating my anxiety into a here-now activity, a use of my present to reflect on my greater life. 

The toughest waits I have had have been in hospital waiting rooms as a patient. In 2002, I was irradiated 30 times for cancer. The treatments became increasing painful from one to the next. I was waiting to be subjected each time to a deeper torture in the name of cure. The urge to bolt was very strong. The other waiters seemed less interested in their here-and-now than I was. Most of them, men with prostate cancer, spent their time complaining to each other about their life at home. I learned to meditate my way through the wait. They assumed I was asleep, I suppose. One x-ray technician said, "You seem so calm when you come in here (treatment room). Most of the patients are really jumpy."

Mastering the anxiety of waiting is very useful as I age. I am 63 and live with two serious diseases. I do not delude myself into thinking my demise is all that far off. So, in a real way, I am always waiting for that final moment. The secret is not letting the anxiety of that waiting to interfere with the life I have left in me. Doing this constructively takes some skill. My builders, who have now shown up, have no idea what a leap it is for me to improve my property under my life circumstances, both existentially and economically. But, it is all part of my attempting to live happily while waiting. That is something I can control.