I want to be clear when I talk about meditation for anxiety, I’m talking about MY anxiety. Your mileage may vary.

The greatest perk of meditation is that it is so completely disruptive. It seems counterintuitive that something I think of as calming is actually disruptive, but it’s true. It puts a stick in the spokes of my worry wheel. 

It has been especially helpful at bedtime when I am most likely to be going round and round with my anxious thoughts.

What will I wear tomorrow? What if I have to pee, and there aren’t any grab bars? How hard will it be to get to the car? Will the doctors judge me for my lack of makeup, dishevelled hair, and hairy armpits? Will I break Dan? Will my support network abandon me?

But for two nights before my last doctor appointment, I slept fine. Without melatonin or weed or Xanax. Like, holy shit, y’all!

There are definitely some things others would classify as spiritual elements of meditation that do not mean much to me, but I don’t need them to mean much. It’s a take-a-penny-leave-a-penny situation. I leave a lot of coins in the tray by the cash register. Someone else can use them.

My worries over money continue as the bills mount again, but I’ve decided not to make a GoFundMe for now. GFM campaigns are effective but a huge energy suck, and I’m already running on fumes. 

Instead I remind myself that Mom’s house is paid for, and I will not be homeless because I need surgery or treatment. I will just copy and paste my support links from time to time and let what happens happen.

I will be OK.

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