I unabashedly admit that I have an anxiety disorder, two actually: generalized anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder. While I’m not always a good student of self-care for anxiety, I do try my best each day to find little things to slow my mind’s engine from revving too high. If you’re among the anxiety disordered, you probably get it – the overthinking; the fretting over this and that; the what if, what if, what if; and the hyper-vigilance, if you have PTSD. The upside to all this is: You’re among good company.

Anxiety disorders affect 40 million adults in the United States each year. These disorders are the number one mental health issue among women, and the second among men. No worries if it so happens that you haven’t had the fortune of being DSM coded with one of these disorders; if you’re among the countless numbers of us who are unsure about the future of our nation, that’s enough to make you go bonkers. And with the holiday season fast approaching, ugh! Talk about an anxiety disordered person’s nightmare – crowed stores, traffic, “Jingle Bells” following you everywhere, pressure to spend just the right amount on a yankee swamp gift. Having an anxiety disorder is sometimes all consuming, mentally exhausting, predatory-like. There are days when I think of my anxiety disorders as the worst roommates I’ve ever had. If you get what I’m saying here, are you wondering how to kick your roommates (or roommate) out of your head and body for good? I wish I could say I had the one-size-fits all answer, but, alas, I do not. However, I do have a self-care for anxiety practice that might help during those most difficult, wonky-crazy moments when you can’t seem to get out of your own way.

After treating myself to a massage/reiki treatment a last month, the therapist asked if I had ever had any surgeries to my pelvic and abdominal area. I almost choked on my tongue. Yes, I had had surgeries: three abdominal and two pelvic. “I felt an outpouring, like hemorrhaging from those areas,” she said.  This could not be good, I thought,  but I had to ask anyway, because that’s what anxious people do, ask and ask again, just to be sure. “No,” she affirmed. “It is not good. You need that energy coming out of you for balance, to ground you.” Yikes, I thought. How much had I bled? What blood type matches imbalance negative? How many pints of blood do I need to bring my balance count back within the normal range?

Of course, she didn’t leave me bleeding all over the place. She looked at me with kind eyes and said I needed to give myself  some love and attention, a bit of self-care for anxiety. Because physical touch alone helps to reduce stress and anxiety, she encouraged me to place a hand over my pelvic/belly area each night while lying in bed. Then, with my eyes closed, tell myself that I am good. I am good enough. I am okay.

And so that’s what I’ve been doing. Sometimes I do forget, but I make up for it during my ten or fifteen minute periods of meditation. During those self-care for anxiety moments, I fill my head with not only good enough, I open myself up to all kinds of friendly  words: smile, joy, yellow, puppy, sunshine, laughter, starlight, full moon, beach, ocean, green, breath, bare feet, grass, warm bath, love, hugs, candle, art, cozy, blue, hope. Certain words often circle around again, which is just fine with me – there’s no such thing as too many smiles, full moons, hugs, or puppies, especially puppies.

I now leave you to fill your head with a lavender bath, soak for as long as you need to with your hand over the part of your body that is bleeding the most, and give yourself the transfusion you deserve: maybe it’s a  field of purple Calla Lilies or a walk in the woods, a warm cup of chamomile tea, or a love note to yourself.

Be well my dear friends.

Oh, one more thing: Don’t fret over the lumps in the gravy this Thanksgiving, because, as my mother likes to say, “It will only get worse.”

Every year, on the last Thursday of November, American families, friends, neighbors, and the otherwise lonely, gather together to celebrate Thanksgiving. For many of us, this year will be no different, and we’ll engage in yet another gastronomic extravaganza. We’ll gnaw on spiced and tenderized turkey wings, eat forkfuls of oven-baked stuffing, scoopfuls of buttered mash potatoes, cleanse the palate with a slice or two of cranberry sauce, and slip into our sweatpants to make room for the must-have dessert: pumpkin pie. We will likely eat ourselves into a tryptophan daze.

Some of us may even dress up in native American costumes, or as Pilgrims, recalling what we learned in history class, how the Plymouth colonists and Wampanoag Indians indulged in a three-day affair of eating, fishing, and hunting in November 1621, celebrating what is acknowledged as the first Thanksgiving. In the winter of 1620, after much of the Pilgrim population was killed, the colonists requested help from the native Indians, who taught them how to hunt, fish and plant crops. In return, the Pilgrims invited the Wampanoag to feast on their bounty of ripe food to celebrate their first successful autumn harvest.

While the narrative of Thanksgiving is partly about how varying cultures and races can gather together and actually get along, the holiday is a time to reflect upon what we are thankful for – in other words, gratitude.

A few weeks ago, while engaging in meditation during a yoga class, the instructor spoke in a melodic chant, with the goal of centering our thoughts on self-appreciation and appreciation for others. She encouraged us to hold onto equanimity and to release ourselves from attachment and aversion, then asked us to imagine sharing that peace of mind with others – loved ones, friends, strangers, even those with whom we are experiencing a somewhat challenged relationship.

As I focused on my breath, filling my lungs with the sweetness of a Sunday morning, I thought about the once-upon-a-time gratitude journal in which I wrote daily statements of thanks each day. I couldn’t recall how long it had been since I had written in that journal. As the yoga instructor had encouraged, I carried my mindful practice into the rest of my day, also bringing with me the theme of gratitude. I told myself I would start a new gratitude journal, in which I would jot down brief observations, thoughts, anything that reminds me I have a lot to be grateful for: the hand-knit afghan my mother-in-law gave me, hot water, a refrigerator full of food, socks with no holes.

In my research about the benefits of gratitude, I learned that keeping a gratitude journal does more than remind me I have a lot to be thankful for. Studies have shown that gratitude improves our emotional, mental, and physical health. It makes us happier, helps us sleep better, inspires us to exercise more, keeps us connected, increases our social capital, makes us more productive and less envious, motivates us to make decisions.

If it’s that easy, writing in a gratitude journal five minutes each day as a means to improve our long-term well being, by more than ten percent researchers say, then I’m in, hook, line, and sinker. Are you? I can’t think of a better time than now, November, National Gratitude Month, to start penciling the page with, “I’m grateful for …”

“This a wonderful day. I’ve never seen this one before.” ~ Maya Angelou