what you worry is what you worship

// leaving the religion of anxiety

I’m a sinner to the church of worry.

I’m afraid I’ve tarnished my reputation with the anxious organization inside my mind.

My devotion to the neutral space between worrying tempts me like a bad influence. It winks at me and whispers dangerous lures such as: “The pressure is only self-proclaimed” and “You can trust that the only certainty is uncertainty.”

I so badly wanted to be a good girl for worrying.

Religiously, I worshipped worry day & night for years on end.

I wore worry like a cross on my necklace - carrying it with me and showing it off in 24k gold. Look at my worries! We can bond over them. We can pray together that what we worry about materializes as reality.

Isn’t that the sermon of this church anyhow?

To have you thinking, analyzing, and praying for what you worry about to become just that? Worrying has become an archetype. It’s become a guru hung on my wall with flowers, mala beads, and incense.

I can’t remember how I subscribed to the church of worry, but like any good cult, you unconsciously agree to its rituals. You stumble into its loving garden while stepping on snakes and sipping poison from its fruits.

You are sold on promises of its good tidings and how you will be saved.

I’m a worry survivor, I suppose.

Just last week, I took some time away from my spiritual affiliation to worrying and sat in the high desert of Joshua Tree.

I felt held while being unclutched from the silent rumination of survival.

This is exactly what my priest of worry advised me against ~ feeling safe in the midst of not knowing what’s next. To trust that not listening to my worries like a podcast on a road trip is true preaching.

Can I kneel to the in-between moments that have zero clarity?

May this be the answer I’m seeking? There are no big-picture answers for me at this moment, and worrying would like to cancel me greatly for succumbing to this.

I still fall into the doctrine of the church of worry.

I am of course what I roll my eyes at - human.

There is a certain degree of mysticism to free-falling out of this religion; however, I will advise that you are a spirit experiencing physical flesh.

Flesh as in paying for car insurance, going to the vet unexpectedly (again) and forgetting to cancel that one subscription.

I loathe this flesh sometimes, truthfully.

As much buoyance as I contain in this cherished heart of mine, I equally have moments of disdain for percolating in the cauldron of worry again. She brews deep nourishment for the parts of me that don’t see any other way out.

She’s peace and zen naturally.

She’s learning that her faith does not lie in worrying but in the absence of it.

I’ve been doing some self-hypnosis around my most embodied self (paying close attention to what I envy the most about her).

Every time I meet her outside the cathedral of worry, I see how easy she makes it look.

I’m bitter about her ease, resentful even.

This embodied self is about 5 years older than me (give or take), and dares to leave the church again & again.

I’m so hungry by her presence, yet I still find that my current self finds satiation at the shrine of restlessness.

I’m re-training my trust metabolism.

I recently learned that insulin increases during your luteal phase, and that’s exactly what it feels like going back to apprehension once you think you’re freed from it.

Excess contemplation is like an ongoing luteal phase. You start to feel ugly, get caught in comparison circuitry, and end up treating life like insulin resistance.

My worry receptors have become numb to the cycles of scrutiny.

Give this girl some apple cider vinegar before eating her meals of worry!

Can I feast this season, gently?

Someone in the Personal Brand Diaries recently mentioned that my neutral approach to our negative spirals creates… “the shift.”

And to clarify the word shift; a slight movement or change.

This season is a time for you to sink into smaller shifts.

We approach our problems with big overhauling energy that seems to cave you in like a panic attack. This only leads to said panic attack.

When was the last time you celebrated your minor adjustments?

The ones that do not hold a lick of instant reward.

The ones that make you question if they mean anything at all.

I believe ((wholeheartedly)) that the accumulation of small shifts holds the most expansive change.

This is the perfect time to try it on for size.

Rioting against the church of worry is mayhem if done overnight.

Slowly, cautiously, exit the worry door on your left step by step.

There is no rush to leave the building.

In fact, you are welcome to come in & out as you please.

Little did I know, the church of worry turns out to be a no-judgment zone once you embrace that it’s only there to keep you safe.

Tap into your small steps.

It’s the only way to forgive yourself when you trip.

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xo

sierra

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