Do you remember that magical day when you were old enough, maybe fourteen or fifteen, and your parents told you to watch the house while they went on vacation? You couldn't wait for them to leave. You felt more like yourself than ever before. No security blankets, no need to ask for permission - it felt like adulthood, and you loved it.
That's what it's like to tell your amygdala to fuck off. The amygdala acts like an overprotective parent, triggering anxiety even in situations that aren't truly dangerous. It tenses your muscles and floods your body with adrenaline, even when there's only a small threat. Feeling anxious when you don't want to is really unpleasant, like when your parents unexpectedly come home and catch you with a girl on the couch and an open bottle of Jack Daniels. However, with time, you learn to laugh about awkward scenarios like that and view them as positive rather than dangerous.
I eagerly anticipate the day when the exhilarating rush at the top of a roller coaster is the only form of anxiety I experience, rather than the impending sense of doom when I want to socialize or go for a drive. My trust in my nation, medicine, and religion has been shattered. However, I remember my fearless childhood––running down hills into ponds without looking before I leaped or fearlessly overtaking cars uphill the day I got my driver’s license, testaments to stupid, puerile fearlessness that thwarts anxiety best of all.
I used to cover that song with my band at college.
So, I’ve hit that point. My mind is on summer days and good times with friends. I have nothing more to tell you about anxiety.
But just a bit about how I ended up blowing off a weirdo who tried to jam me up at Church. As I hinted at in the last post, I was going to name more names, but I've said all I care to say. It’s time to get off this.
FATHER SAM
In the early pandemic, Our Lady of Grace had confessions on both sides of a screen door by the rectory, and the penitent could kneel before it wearing a mask. SMH.
I walked up to the screen door to confess my sins. According to my Fitbit, my heart rate was 161. Before the words left my mouth, I thought I was playing Division One soccer on my knees. That's because I was suddenly aware that if I died in a state of mortal sin, I would not be welcome in heaven. I told you my vision of Hell last time, yes? Well, then.
I informed the priest that I no longer had the faith. The intense anxiety had made it impossible for me to sleep, love my wife, socialize, or pursue my art, and I just wanted to die standing up and get it over with, as long as I died in a state of grace.
Catholic Priests may not discuss what they hear in the confessional, but the penitent can, which is why I can tell you what happened next. There was a moment of silence before he spoke, and I thought, man, something is off.
He told me he didn't believe either! What in the actual fuck!
And he asked me to call him Sam, not Father Sam. I tell you truly, if I were not a committed Catholic, I would have stormed out and gone down the street to a four-square Baptist service.
Sam's claim that many in the Church merely go through the motions without true belief didn't sit well with me. I vividly remembered individuals who openly supported Pride Month, championed abortionist views or engaged in unrepentant behavior akin to the characters in "The Godfather." Thankfully, I've found solace in listening to Sirius 130, "Called To Communion," featuring Dr. David Anders, who gave me solid Catholic apologetics to defend me against the wickedness and snares of the devil. Also, my wife and I befriended a Nigerian priest at OLG who truly walks his talk in the Holy Spirit and a priest from Milwaukee who was into Bachman-Turner Overdrive and Thomas Aquinas simultaneously. I never walk alone. That could be the takeaway. Do not distress yourself with dark imaginings; many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Some of my Protestant acquaintances, who I keep at arm's length, will no doubt sneer that I relied on Sam to absolve me even though he did not himself believe in the Sacrament. It is not my custom to explain this miracle to anyone outside The Church.
It’s amazing that you’re using your will to override your amygdala! That’s the best thing I heard! So glad you blew off that week priest! This was a fun read!