Mind Chaos, Anxiety, and Time to Defragment

I realized that today marks one year since my last blog post. So much for making a comeback, and “done, not perfect”. What is wrong with me? I continue asking this question. Here I have this dream (since I was in second grade, or approximately 42 years) of becoming a published author and yet something inside me continues to block my path in moving forward. I know there are elements of fear, doubt, impostor syndrome, and anxiety--all of which might be one in the same. I’ve considered giving up writing. I even tried to give up the dream, but I continue to visualize myself at my readings sharing my newest picture book or excerpts from a middle grade novel, or even my memoir. I imagine the food I will serve, and the themes to accompany the books. I imagine finding my books on a shelf at a bookstore. I see myself traveling to schools to give readings and lead writing workshops. I imagine being chosen to speak at one of my former colleges because of my accomplishments. I cannot shut out the visions and the thoughts.

One year ago today, the first case of Covid-19 was lab-confirmed in the United States. This marked the beginning of a year that has changed millions of lives around the world physically, behaviorally toward ourselves and others, and emotionally. So, adding to my anxiety around my dream, was this Covid thing that led me to being a full-time stay-at-home mom, distance learning teacher (which came to an end when we returned to in-person live yesterday, January 19th, 2021). Now I have developed increased doubts about my parenting (it is really hard living with a child 24 hours as a single parent while trying to keep her on track with her schooling, and trying to work by creating lessons and videos and being available for regular tech support for students, families and colleagues). My mind is like a computer needing major defragmenting. 

I know that I’m not alone with this mind chaos. So many unknowns and inconsistencies this year, not only for adults, but for our children, too. Remembering that we’re not alone, when it’s so easy to feel alone, is key to managing, and I pray, to also moving forward.

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Small Things by Mel Tregonning © 2018 Pajama Press Inc. (Publisher)

How does one write a picture book about anxiety without the addition of words? Anxiety can reveal itself in symbols. For a boy in Small Things, flying, almost monster-like, spirits chase after him, taking bites out of the boy’s flesh with their sharp teeth. Not literally, but in reading this black and white wordless graphic-style picture book, readers or viewers can see a boy trying to fit in and be himself, but when other kids stop smiling at him or talking to him, the chomping spirit beings swarm around him. He tries to cover the missing chunks in his flesh to hide them from other peoples’ view as more of him gets eaten away, but this does not deter the creatures. The boy grapples with his school work, angers easily at home, and struggles to clear his head when he tries to sleep at night. At all of these times, the demons flow and swirl around him.

Not until the boy’s older sister recognizes his pain does he learn that the same types of demons plague her also. Only after this recognition and acknowledgement is he able to repel the demons. At first, the spirits still take bites, but with support of his sister, the boy bravely talks to his parents. Then is he able to sleep calmly. The story concludes with the reader seeing that the boy is not the only child at school being bitten in varying amounts by the demons. He later reaches out to a classmate who he lashed out at previously. A hand on her shoulder lets her know that she is not alone.

(Side note: Mel Tregonning, the creator of Small Things struggled with her own demons. She died before the book’s completion. Author and illustrator Shaun Tan, with the blessing of Tregonning’s family, was able to finish the story that Tregonning began through her powerful and beautiful artistry.)

This book, I believe, has value for both children and adults. It’s time to move forward, for all of us. 

(It’s getting late now, but I’m determined to post this before I go to sleep while it's still today, January 20, 2021. Something else happened that is symbolic of moving forward. Today was inauguration day. How many tears were shed out of pure joy and hope? It is time for our anxieties to cease. It’s a new year. We’re not alone, and now many of us are not so small anymore.)

To a new year,

Today, tomorrow, and always.

~Tamara