01 My Journey – Step 5

I’m worried and afraid of the future. I try to control everything. I push myself to do everything perfectly. I pull myself together. I feel responsible for everything and insert myself in things. I am stressed. My thoughts are constantly circling around the future. I could lose my money or my job, something could happen to my children, I could fall ill or even die.

There’s barely anything I can really control. My life is living me, so to speak. I have no control over situations and people around me. Even my thoughts come into my head uncontrollably without invitation. But I can learn to control my attention and which thoughts I believe.

“There are two days a year when I can do absolutely nothing: yesterday and tomorrow.”

Diana and Maria are sitting next to each other on a plane when there’s a sudden bout of turbulence, and they are shaken up pretty badly. Diana immediately thinks that they are going to crash. She believes that this could actually happen. Her heart rate increases, she starts sweating, and her muscles cramp up. She becomes more afraid with every tremor – panic spreads.

Maria is also worried. She wonders whether the aircraft can really withstand these loads. However, she does not believe anything is actually going to happen to them. She blocks out the thought that they are in danger. She returns to her normal state and lets go of that thought. She can’t do anything. She is not afraid and does not panic. Both land safely at their destination airport.

It’s not the circumstances that are bad, just the thoughts I have about them. When I think about the future, I always get anxious and worry. I visualise what could happen. But what about today? Isn’t everything okay today? What if I didn’t let my mind think so far ahead?

That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t make any plans. It’s about the inner attitude with which I approach planning. I can be relaxed and have inner peace and clarity, or I can panic and worry about whether everything will go well all the time. If I choose the first option, I plan and I am free. If I choose the second option, I am thrown from one worry loop to the next like a pinball.

I cannot control the thoughts that come and go. If I pay attention to them and believe them, they can grow and flourish. This means that the energy doesn’t come from the outside, but from within me. Our language is also telling: “I worry.” This active statement indicates that I’m the one causing my fears and worries by feeding them with attention and faith.

I can never know exactly why a thought arises and why my attention is so focused on it. They can be caused by past experiences or conditioning during childhood. They can also be habits I copied from my ancestors. Dealing with certain thoughts becomes a habit. That’s just the way I am.

Or is it really possible to gain control over my attention? Can I learn to direct my thoughts? Yes, I want to take that path. I don’t want to continue to be a slave to my own thoughts. I don’t want to worry so much and be afraid all the time.

Our brains cannot distinguish between reality and our imagination. They can’t distinguish between a real danger and the perception of danger: Our entire alarm system is activated, and we prepare to fight or flee. Once the danger has passed, our body needs hours to calm down again.

If I generate new worries and fears with my thoughts in the meantime, my body is permanently bathed in an alarm cocktail and can no longer calm down. I’m tense, stressed, sleep badly, my digestion suffers, and I don’t laugh enough. I suffer and become a burden to the people around me. I want to get out of here – I want to get out of my control room.

The magic word is: dedication. Life is already living me – without me doing anything. I realise and accept that I can’t control very much. Therefore, I might as well relax here and now. Sounds simple, but it’s not. Fortunately, I’m good – very good, in fact. I’m learning this – step by step – at my own pace.

“If I’m going to compare myself to anyone, then only to myself.”

What happens when I worry? I take a closer look at this process:

1. I have a bad feeling.
2. I focus my attention on this feeling. My head analyses whether danger is imminent.
3. The analysis has shown: Danger is imminent. I believe my thoughts.
4. My alarm system is activated, and my body is on alert.
5. From now on, I can only perceive the world under the guise of this impending danger. I’m stressed, worried, scared or panicking.

Example:
Maria is sitting at home working on a report. Her 10-year-old daughter is riding her bike around the neighbourhood with her friends. All of a sudden, Maria gets a bad feeling: “Something could happen to my daughter!” Her mind conjures up images of accidents. There are several dangerous crossings where the children are playing. There has already been an accident at one of these crossings.

She now firmly believes that her daughter is in danger. She becomes restless and nervous. She is constantly looking out of the window, sweating and wondering whether she should look for her. Meanwhile, her daughter is not thinking about the future at all. She is enjoying her time with her friends without a care in the world and returns home at 6:00 pm unscathed and happy as agreed.

I am learning to direct my thoughts so that I won’t lock myself in the control room anymore. What I need in order to achieve this: mindfulness.

I Come into the Present Moment

I breathe in and out deeply. I follow the air into my lungs and out again. I can feel the air revitalising me. I tense my pelvic floor (as if I were stopping the flow of urine) and let go again. I relax my shoulders and imagine that my arms are hanging from my shoulders like two thick cords.

I relax my face, yawn and release the tension on my forehead. I tell myself who or what I am right now. I am a woman sitting on a chair and breathing. What is wrong right now? What can I do to improve my situation right now?

I observe which thoughts my head generates and which ones I pay attention to. I notice my thoughts wandering into the future, and I start to worry. But what is wrong right now? What can I do today? I let that thought go again. I don’t need it right now. I can’t do anything right now. I’m just a woman sitting on a chair and breathing. I am learning to meditate.

Anxiety and worries always arise when I allow my thoughts to wander into the future. But only this present moment is real. Everything else is an illusion in my head. This, right now, is the most important moment in my life. I don’t have another one. It is the only moment that is real. I have arrived. I am home.

Home is not a place. It is a state that arises when I leave my realm of thoughts, return to the present moment and experience reality. I follow my sensory perceptions. What can I hear? What can I smell? What is touching my skin? What can I see? What can I taste? I have left the control room. I have surrendered to life. My life is already living me. I breathe. My heart tirelessly pumps blood through my veins. I don’t have to do anything. I trust life.

I integrate this process into my daily routine. I place notes in my environment that say: “Right now”.

It becomes an ongoing routine, and I manage to come back from the future faster and faster. I am writing fewer entries about my anxiety and worries in my DoD. I have patience. I learn step by step and not overnight. I trust that I will learn, even if my thoughts seem to be jumping around randomly. I have enough time to practise. I’m doing really well. I can rely on myself. I stay centred. I’ve been waiting for me.

I Lovingly Perceive What Is Happening

I often find it very difficult to even realise that something is wrong. I’ve gotten so comfortable in my control room, I really feel at home there. Because I have so many tasks to do and take care of every day, I’m constantly energised. I have to monitor and organise everything. I have to work like clockwork.

I’m so used to it. I need the pressure, the stress. It drives me. Sometimes I wake up during the night and worry or get scared that I have overlooked something, that I might make a mistake or that something unexpected might happen. But does it really have to be like this?

Do I really have to keep going in circles in my mental carousel of excessive demands, pressure, stress, worry and fear?

My body is sending me clear signals. I am tense. My neck hurts. My back hurts. I have a headache. I am not sleeping well. I often have a stomach ache or feel sick. I am learning to recognise these signals for what they are. My body is trying to tell me that it wants better treatment.

When I write in my DoD that I’ve had another really stressful day today and that my head is throbbing and my neck is tense, I close my eyes and breathe deeply into my stomach. I perceive what I am feeling in my body. But I don’t judge myself. I don’t scold or criticise myself for rushing through the day again.

I treat myself lovingly. I am on my journey. I have already learnt that I am aware of my body. I notice where it hurts. I direct my attention there, and I come into the present moment. What do I need to do now? Can I let go now? Can I get off the carousel for a moment?

Just by perceiving my thoughts and pain, something begins to dissolve. My body is grateful that I am paying attention and taking its signals seriously. I am patient with myself. It takes time to change my behaviour. After all, I have had a lot of practice. The key to getting this change process going and keeping it going is treating myself with love.

As soon as I push myself to change, demand top-level performances from myself and expect these changes to happen much faster, I get back on the carousel and spin in circles. I can’t skip any of my steps.

When I seek medical advice, I am told my diagnosis before receiving medicine. The brilliant thing about my mindfulness process is that the diagnosis is the medicine. Just by focusing my attention on my thoughts, thinking about what I want to believe and what I don’t want to believe, feeling my body, breathing and becoming aware of what I can control and, above all, what I can’t control, the change already begins.

I can relax in the moment more and more often. I gain some distance from my carousel of thoughts. It’s almost as if the real me could observe my thoughts from a certain distance. As if they were two different levels, and I didn’t actually consist of my thoughts.

When I worry, I perceive my thoughts lovingly. “Hey, I’m really worried about my daughter. I love her and don’t want anything to happen to her. It’s perfectly all right for me to have these thoughts. I am a good and caring mother.”

But I won’t allow fear to strangle me. How can I protect my daughter now? She is out cycling with her friends. I know that she is alert and rides her bike carefully. I am happy for my daughter. She is experiencing and learning new things today. I relax in this moment and surrender to life. I trust my daughter.

I Accept What I Cannot Change and Change What Can Be Changed

I often wish that something were different. I want better weather because I have a trip planned. I would like even more people to come to my event. I would like fewer travellers to visit this sight I am at right now.

I want my new company to get more orders. I don’t understand why my friends don’t call me more often. I want my partner to behave differently or even look different.

That means I don’t accept reality as it is. That’s extremely strenuous. I won’t be able to win this inner battle.

Then I imagine I am blind and find myself in a room I don’t recognise. I feel my way forward. I bump into a chair. I go around it and keep walking. I reach a wall. I can’t go any further in that direction. So I feel my way along the wall until I finally find the door to leave this room.

This approach seems completely plausible to me. If I were blindfolded, I would do the same. I wouldn’t be annoyed if I bumped into a chair or a wall. I had no idea they were there.

Nevertheless, every day, I face a wall and bang my hands against it. I want it to disappear and get out of my way. I want people to leave this viewing platform so that I can enjoy the view in peace. I want my daughter to come home so that I don’t have to worry any more. I am fighting a hopeless battle.

What if I learnt to change my perspective? The problem is not what happens to me, but what I think about it. It’s not the things themselves that are bad, just my thoughts about them. Of course, I would prefer to enjoy the view from this platform in peace and quiet, without children shouting and hectic groups of tourists jostling for the best photo.

But if I can’t change that right now, for example, because I can’t come back at another time, I take a deep breath and accept reality as it is without judging it as bad. It is what it is. I relax in the present moment and experience what I can. I surrender to the situation and make the best of it.

Besides, I still have options. I don’t have to stay for very long and could look for a quieter place. Or I could decide to skip this sight. However, I have to be aware that I may put my companions in a difficult situation. They may not perceive the situation as unpleasant. They want to get in there now. Will it be a problem if I don’t go with them?

Saying “no” to you means saying “yes” to me, but what happens to the “we” then? Am I really prepared to give up on this experience? Or do I secretly wish I could accept more of what is and give up the inner struggle?

I can practise that. Life offers me training opportunities again and again. I describe these experiences in my DoD and think about how things could have been different in a protected environment, i.e. in my head.

What would have happened if I had set aside my rejection, my criticism and my resentment for a moment? What if I had gotten on the swing carousel by myself, flown through the air on my little chair and completely relinquished control for a few minutes?

And if I come to the conclusion that it still scares me too much or I simply feel very uncomfortable with the idea, then that’s perfectly fine. Then I lovingly accept my decision and accept that I don’t want something, or perhaps I don’t want it yet. And just by realising this, I have already set another change in motion.

Next time, I will no longer just be a passenger on my mental swing carousel. I notice that my thoughts are trying to fight reality. I ask myself whether I can change anything, or whether the only way to experience this moment is to relax and accept it as it is.

And if I don’t or don’t yet want to succeed, then I lovingly accept that too. I accept that I cannot accept yet. And that’s perfectly okay. I am on my journey. I don’t compare myself to anyone. No one else can live my life for me. I stay centred. I treat myself motherly. I’m doing really well, and I have plenty of time to do everything.

I choose my favourite phrase and write it on little notes, which I place where I know I’ll see them frequently:

• I say yes to reality.
• I allow reality to be the way it is.
• I have surrendered to life.
• I relax into the moment.
• I accept the situation as it is.
• I open myself up to the present moment.
• I let go of my ideas.
• I forgive my counterpart, the moment and myself.
• I make peace with myself, the moment and my fellow human beings.
• I change my physical state from solid to liquid or gaseous.

I Am Going in a New Direction

Once I manage to distance myself from my thoughts, recognise my thoughts for what they are, namely a product of my imagination, and calm down after letting go of the problematic thoughts I no longer trust, I can ask myself what I really want. What is my reality?

But this only works when I am truly free from my fears and worries, from anger and rage, from neediness and greed. Then I have access to myself again and intuitively feel where I want to go.

I now practise this new focus in my everyday life. For example, once I let go of the thought that a large gathering of people will stress me out, I can go with the flow. I can surrender to the moment without my alarm system being activated.

Yes, there are a lot of people here. Many of them are probably tense too. But there is no need for that. Everyone just wants to get to their destination. Maybe I can connect with someone. I can let someone go first and smile at them, or I can ask for directions or make sure I’m on the right bus.

I will realise that I am dealing with a human being. Someone like me, who will probably also be happy to step out of this anonymous mass. We will be like two dots of colour in a grey mass, and our colours will rub off on our surroundings.

I can also let go of the thought that nothing is ever enough. How unfair it is that the others always get more. “I’m always overlooked. I don’t get what I deserve, and I am not taken seriously.” When I free myself from my habitual thinking of what is lacking, I suddenly see the abundance and diversity that surrounds me.

I have plenty of air to breathe. The sun offers an abundance of light and warmth. Wherever we allow it, nature thrives in all its lush splendour. There is abundance everywhere. What is wrong right now? I am enough. I embrace my inner child and protect it at every turn. I’ve been waiting for me. I stay centred. My opinion is important, simply because it’s mine.

Coffee or tea? What feels good? We don’t say: What “thinks” good? Whenever I make a decision, I trust my feelings rather than my mind. The latter can check the facts, but my heart and my gut follow a higher intelligence. There is abundance, joy, clarity, gratitude and silence in all areas of my life. I give my life a chance to enjoy me.

I remember Maria and her daughter on the bike. If Maria doesn’t learn to control her attention, she will transfer her anxiety to her daughter. The little girl can sense her mother’s restlessness whenever she leaves. She learns that you have to worry when your loved ones leave the house.

When she comes back, her mother tells her how glad she is that she is home and that she was worried. The daughter doesn’t want to worry her mother. The next time her friends come round with their bikes, she might suggest that they play in the garden instead. But her friends would rather go cycling, causing the girl to stay at home alone so as not to make her mother anxious.

In the future, and also in adulthood, whenever she plans to do anything, she will ask herself whether she’s causing anyone any worry. She may even contemplate cancelling her plans.

I write in my DoD that I have told and shown someone how much I care about them. I might think to myself that it’s a good thing. It’s also a way of expressing that someone is important to me. That is correct. But at the same time, I exert pressure and try to control the other person and get them to refrain from doing things I consider dangerous.

What if I could align my daughter’s needs with my own? I can show her that I am happy she is experiencing this adventure, and I hope she enjoys it to the fullest.

When she comes back, I greet her warmly and let her know that I’m very happy to see her safe and sound. And because I have learnt to focus my attention and not feed my anxiety and my worries, I can also let her feel that her adventures don’t bother me.

Without me being aware of it, my mental carousel is being fuelled from the outside. Screens, radio and books constantly feed me with information. What am I taking in? Which media do I allow to nourish me? What news and information is really important and meaningful to me? What is good for me, and what gives me courage?

“Tell me what keeps you awake at night, and I’ll tell you who you are.”

I take a very critical look at my media consumption and deliberately start leaving things out. I stay away from sensational news. I am aware of how search algorithms on the Internet work. They serve me more and more of what I watch or read and demand. I create my own bubble.

I can only free myself from it by turning it off. For a change, I contact a friend to talk about anything and everything. I go out into nature. I ask myself quite deliberately: “Who or what do I want to focus on and believe in?” I stay centred. I’ve been waiting for me. I am right. The next chapter is about courage (02 My Light). “I won’t experience the things I daren’t do.” What am I ashamed of? What’s stopping me from getting into the ring and presenting myself? I’m doing really well. The others have a right to see me.

My Journey:

Step 1 I’ve been waiting for me

Step 2 I stay centred

Step 3 I treat myself motherly

Step 4 I’m doing really well

Step 5 I have enough time for everything