I left home when I was sixteen. My first job was working on a dairy farm, milking 130 cows, twice a day. My wage was the princely sum of one hundred and ninety two dollars a fortnight. I lived on the job and would return home to mum one weekend a month. Part of the job was contract hay making, we would travel to all the local farms mow the hay paddocks, turn the grass, windrow and bale the grass using machinery towed behind big tractors. With our seasonal team we would load hay bales onto big trailers, transport it and load it into the barn for the cattle to eat in winter. I loved working with our seasonal teams; it was my only opportunity to socialise with other people. The farming lifestyle is often remote and lonely.
Ironically, I suffer from hay fever, I’ve had to deal with allergies my whole life. Somedays on the farm it would be so bad I would have to wear goggles and a respirator to try and protect myself. Negotiating antihistamines that would often make me drowsy, a dangerous practise when operating heavy machinery. My eyes would swell from the irritation of the constant dust whipped up by the machines. I looked like one of those gold fish with the big bulging eyes, nose constantly running like a leaky tap, the noise of the engines blocking out my constant sneezing.
Now that I’m older the allergies are not as bad. I still have to manage allergies, especially on windy or dry days. The other day I was sneezing as usual, doing all my usual defaults, take an antihistamine, blow my nose a quiet prayer under my breath. However something didn’t quite feel right, so I took a Covid test. Sure enough I tested positive, my second time since the pandemic.
Groan, I move into auto pilot, ringing my wife, wearing a mask, sanitising every time I move. Thankfully I work from home so everyone is out during the main part of the day, work, school.
When my family returns I self quarantine to the bedroom, Mr Over Cautious who doesn’t want to run the risk of potentially spreading it to my family.
It’s funny now, reflecting on my thought process during that time. For periods while in the room I would have to literally capture negative thoughts and negative emotions. Thoughts that would try and force me into a mindset of fear, and guilt. Destructive mistruths trying to fan the embers of a previous anxiety condition.
You’re going to end up in hospital ,you’re going to give it to your family, your daughter’s going to get really sick because of you, Grandad will catch it and die and it will be all your fault.
Often at times of negative mental or physical interaction, this pattern emerges. An attack of the mind that specifically targets in the area of my confidence; a residue from my past.
The most significant lesson a learnt while in self imposed isolation is that dealing with anxiety is a daily battle. Even though I’ve had a handle on anxiety for many years now I still have to be aware of the tell tale signs and address it quickly.
As a youth growing up I would self medicate anxiety with copious amounts of illicit substances (ignorance truly was bliss.) Anxiety for me at its height would create feelings of panic which in turn would cause me to make sometimes poor and harmful decisions. Emotional decisions based on lies, things I had conjured up in my mind that simply weren’t true.
Taking control of anxiety takes time old habits need to be broken and new ones need to be formed. I apply many different tools: tools of affirmation, tools of security, tools to engender a change in mindset.
It’s always going to be a point of contention in my life, so I need to be studious in those moments and protect myself. Protecting my mind, like a boxer who keeps a high guard over a cut eye ducking and weaving so as not to be exposed. When attacks come I must guard up trust in my defences, and stay calm.
Calm in the knowledge that God loves me and has not given me a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind. 2 Timothy 1:7