Tag Archives: mental-health

The art of not being nervous

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Jackie Wells-Fauth

I bet you think I’m going to give you tips on how not to be nervous in nerve-wracking situations, right? Well, you would be 100 percent wrong!

The only “art” I have when it comes to nervousness is how to make it so much worse! It doesn’t matter what I am nervous about, good or bad; I can always add to the drama.

If I’m going to the doctor, it’s a mad rush. I am always there early, bringing an entire backpack of self-care. Reading materials that I don’t read or maybe snacks—too much sugar might affect my blood pressure, so I’ll have chips with the satisfying crunch and lots of salt—which will affect my blood pressure. We can’t have that when my blood pressure is already going to be high.

So no self-care packet. I must do something to ease the tension, but what? I know, I’ll tell a few amusing jokes:

“These gowns are so chic; who is your designer?”  Or perhaps:

“I prefer cold instruments because then I know I’m alive.” No? Maybe:

“Awww…only two shots; how disappointing. I have four limbs to stab, you know.”

Yeah, maybe no jokes.

Waiting for planes, trains, buses or taxis is also very nerve-wracking for me. Again, I arrive very early, so while anyone else at the station is trying to uncomfortably nap, I am busy rearranging all the luggage, adjusting everything and taking inventory. That way, I know right away all the things I remembered and I have more time to stress over the things I forgot. And there’s always that nervous uncertainty:

“Is that our plane? I don’t think that’s it; it should be bigger.”

Or, standing in the cold morning air on a street corner:

“They are not here yet and it’s only ten minutes to the set arrival time. Did I give them the right address? What if I said it wrong?”

And if all else fails, I can make a joke:

“Well, if they don’t get here, we can always walk; it’s only five miles to the airport.” (Upon reflection, this is not a very funny joke.)

If you’re wondering where this rumination on nervous anticipations is coming from, it’s because I am at a drama competition where all I can do is wait for the students to compete. That might be the worst nervousness of all. Nervous anticipation on behalf of others.

So, I do the other thing I do when I’m waiting and nervous: I write. It doesn’t always make sense, but I write. My other choices here are to go around and listen to the competition:

“Did I tell the students to do that move when they are presenting? Oh, I couldn’t have! Oh, now I can’t look!”

Or, I can spend the time waiting with the kids about to compete, sharing my nervousness all around:

“Straighten your tie, and make sure your shoes are knotted. You look nervous; you’re not nervous are you? I’m sure not nervous.”

I have had students specifically request that I go sit in a quiet corner somewhere and breathe deeply.

“Okay, I’ll do that. Or, better still, I could tell a joke. I’ve got a million of them!”

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Talk of the Town

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Jackie Wells-Fauth

“I need to get the clothes started in the wash early, because there are a lot of them. I wonder where the dog is. She was just here. I need a new pair of shoes; these are so worn out.”

This was the conversation I was having this morning and it’s pretty normal; just what anyone would talk about…except that I was alone and talking to myself. Go ahead, try and convince me that you’ve never done that! I talk to myself all the time.

“Mrs. Fauth, who are you talking to?” a student would come into my classroom and ask. “There’s no one else in here.”

“I’m talking to myself,” I would answer defensively.

“Don’t do that; it makes you look crazy,” they would chide.

“I love talking to myself,” I told them proudly. “I am the most sympathetic listener I have.”

I’ve always mumbled to myself, so it isn’t a symptom of old age, but my students and my grandchildren definitely think it could be otherwise. I was mentally arranging the things I had to do for the day in my head as I moved around the kitchen during a recent grandchild visit.

“Grandma are you talking to me?” asked my loving grandchild.

“Oh, no, I’m just answering the voices in my head,” I said, trying to make a joke. I’m not sure he got it and I’m also not sure he didn’t contact his parents that afternoon, asking them to come rescue him from the crazy lady!

The fact remains, however, that I have whole conversations with myself and they are usually the most satisfying! I can solve all of my problems and some of those in the world, just with a quiet conversation with myself over a cup of coffee in the morning. “If they would just put a stoplight on that corner, we would have no problems, you mark my word,” I observed one morning.

The dog, who was lying on the deck beside me, picked up her head and looked around for other people. None were there, however, and she is too used to my mutterings to be too worried about it. She went back to sleep while I continued, “I don’t know what to do about that bush. Should I trim it back, do you think? No, that would ruin the looks of it.”

Someone told me once that talking to yourself is not a sign of being crazy. However, if you answer yourself, then you have a problem. So, I have a problem. Because I answer myself all the time. Even worse, I get into arguments with myself…and occasionally, I lose them!

“You need to get that window cleaned, it’s filthy,” I will tell myself.

“I’ll clean that window when I’m darned good and ready and don’t tell me what to do!” I count that as an argument that I won.

Talking to myself in the confines of my own home is one thing, but I have been known to carry on conversations with myself in public places. If you see me out for a walk, I’ll usually be having a lively conversation, complete with hand gestures.

I don’t always know that I’m doing this, but occasionally, I will look up in some public place and see someone giving me a very odd stare and I’ll know that they were in on the conversation I was having about the best pain reliever to buy. Me, myself and I haven’t come to an agreement on that, so we argue it in public a lot.

The other day, I was driving the car down the street (I frequently compliment myself on my driving). On this day, however, I was having a heated argument with myself, and I don’t even remember the subject or which of me was winning. However, I was chattering away and as I raised one hand for emphasis, I noticed the person waiting on the corner for me to pass so they could walk. I quickly paused and indicated that they should go ahead. For a moment they looked at me and then turned around and walked the other way.

“Well, that was odd,” I told myself.

“Oh, I agree. What was their problem?” I answered.

Life is fun when you are the talk of the town!

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The Walkabout

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Jackie Wells-Fauth

Because of all the health issues I’ve had and the health issues I would really like to avoid, I’ve come to the sad conclusion that I must stay physically active.

So, a few years back, I decided it was time to institute a daily walking program. I call it my “walkabout” because that sounds so much more fun and elegant than “the daily trudge.” In Australia, a walkabout is a hiking trip through the bush country—or so I understand. I can pretend I’m there and I feel so important!

It starts with the daily argument my body has as I am dragging it out of bed. Let’s see: whose turn is it to hurt today and turn the walkabout into a limpabout?

“The left knee has been hogging the headlines for hurting now for four days. I think it’s time to let the right ankle have a turn at hurting,” I will hear them say as I pull on my old clothes and my walking shoes.

“Well, okay, but don’t forget that the upper body has a lot of neat pains as well. The shoulders can make walking unpleasant and there’s nothing like a good headache to create just the right amount of strain.”

Once we have determined what is going to create the walking problem, it’s time to select the correct brace. An ankle brace or a knee brace? Is it a sling we need for an arm that’s out of commission or do we need a neck brace to be on the safe side? I have a collection of braces for various body parts that would put a hospital to shame and pretty much every day, I need one (sometimes more) for the morning walkabout.

The next question is where to walk. The health recommendation to keep all the body parts moving is to walk at least 30 minutes. My own health recommendation is not to walk on any major highway, because getting hit by a vehicle would mess up my walkabout a great deal. That does, however, limit my walking choices. I have determined that if I walk twice around the little housing area where I live, I will meet the recommended time. In order to do that, I have to walk by my own house several times and it’s always a temptation to just give it up and drag myself back into the house for a second cup of coffee.

If I can resist the temptation to cut the walk short and just tell everyone I did a full 30 minutes, I find that it’s upsetting for the neighborhood dogs to have me skulking by their houses several times. We have reached an understanding, though—I’ll stay off their lawns and they won’t sound like they are going to eat me! It’s a satisfying arrangement for all of us—especially me!

Weather becomes a real issue when it comes to the walkabout. When I was younger, I walked in any weather, usually very early in the mornings, because I had to get to work. Now that I’ve retired and regained my senses, I find walking at 6:30 in the morning, in the dark, in a snowstorm, to be a little too much. I do still try to go as early as possible because I have discovered a correlation between the time of day and my ambition: the later it gets, the less I want to walk!

So I aim to get in a full walk; except if it’s too hot…or too cold, or too sunny…or raining…or foggy. Foggy is the worst because that messes up my glasses and I can’t see where I’m walking.

I decided I needed a way to walk even when the weather is not cooperating, so I invested in a treadmill, which frequently doubles as a clothes closet. They say that is not as good as walking outside, so I do try to make it a walkabout in the great outdoors, because saying, “I went for my morning walkabout on the treadmill”—really loses a lot of glamour! But, if the weather’s too bad, or I’ve waited too long, I clear the hangers off the treadmill and go for my “walkabout” there!

The end result of this is that I still wake up in the morning wondering what things on the body are going to complain, but I’m assured by every medical source I’ve checked that it would be worse without the walkabout. So, if you see me out there trudging down the road, looking like I’m really not enjoying myself—I’m not, but I’m at least pretending I am in the bush country of Australia and doing something elegant!

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