Life on edge, part 1

I am a very, very anxious person.

There, I’ve said it.

And when I say that, I mean all day, every day, since I was a young child; worrying, ruminating, convinced that something is just on the verge of going wrong. It’s not really environmentally related – I mean, yes, I get uncomfortable on particularly turbulent flights, but what I’m talking about is an underlying baseline state of dis-ease that has always been with me.

My anxiety manifests as an inexplicable sense of existential dread that has no practical explanation. And for my ordered and rational brain, the fact that I can’t reason my anxiety out of existence is both frustrating and agonizing. There are more mornings than I’d like to admit that I’m in bed, nearly frozen in a wordless, limitless sense of impending doom, trying to coax myself to at least sit up, breathe, have a sip of water.

For those of you who know me professionally this might come as a bit of a surprise. I realize that on the podium, I emanate an aura of calm control, and I’m known for keeping my cool regardless of what happens under the pressure cooker atmosphere of performance. My professional unflappability is, for lack of a better term, kind of “my thing”.

But for me the podium is a safe place – performing never feels as stressful as the challenge of simply living. I mean, nothing really terrible is going to happen onstage, as the worst outcome while conducting would be a mistake, which, after all, is not life threatening. And for me, the level of focus required to move an orchestra and create beauty together pulls me out of my personal whirlpool of dread – all my senses are utterly engaged in accomplishing something, and that is unbelievably soothing.

Anxiety is exacerbated, of course, by outside stressors, of which I have no control. This year I’m spending 39 weeks on the road, and while that means my career is at top speed, and I’m involved in some amazing projects, it also carries with it a plethora of negatives – jet lag, exhaustion, loneliness, constantly being away from family and friends, a lack of daily rhythm, living out of a suitcase.

Compound my internal agitation with these external stressors, and I find myself in a situation where I have to be incredibly mindful of how I manage my day to day. And I’ve learned a few things that help me get through, whether it’s my quiet daily struggle or a particularly demanding week in an unfamiliar city.

For me, a reminder of my physical self is the easiest way to take me out of the chaotic velodrome of my mind, and running has been a constant go-to, since my early teens. The act of moving my body puts me back in touch with the simple animal processes of breath and motion, and my mind is able to slow down enough to calmly observe the world around me – road, building, bridge, river, tree, feet rhythmically hitting the ground. It’s that grounding feeling that I particularly find helpful, as I spend so much time in my head (and, literally, in the air). And it’s an added bonus, of course, if I can run through a park or a nature preserve wherever in the world I am, as that connection to nature can have a powerful positive effect.

Meditation helps. I’ve practiced vipassana meditation for over a decade now, and although I’ll lapse occasionally, I can always find time for a few minutes daily, if not a 20 minute sit. Again, it’s about the physical – in this instance, slowing down and focusing on breath and finding the small stillness deep within me. Some consider meditation as some sort of mental pursuit but for me it’s the opposite – it’s taking away the chatter of the mind and sitting comfortably in my physical self.

Having a constant companion in Pinkerton, my beloved Papillon, is invaluable, and his mere existence helps mitigate a great deal of the stress of loneliness on the road. But even when I’m home and having a particularly anxious day, knowing that I’m responsible for his needs will get me out of bed, and watching him devour his food with gusto or race towards me with a favorite toy reminds me of the fundamentals of life – eat, play, be in the moment.

And needless to say, a good therapist can make all the difference, and I’m lucky to have one.

I’ve been hesitant to write about this because, like it or not, there is still a certain amount of stigma around mental health. But the thing is, for me, being open about my anxiety forces me to face it directly, and somehow that makes it begin to dissipate, or at least soften. And right now that’s the best I can do, working every day to ease the grip of anxiety, bit by bit. It took me a little while to get out of bed this morning but I’m here, I’m present, I’m writing. And for me that’s another step in the right direction.