Browse archives: 2007 | 2006 | 2005 | 2004 | 2003 | 2002 | 2001 | 2000 | 1999 | 1998 | 1997 | 1996 | 1995

Published on 12/07/1998 All articles from this issue

Busy days - anxious nights

printer friendly version

By Charlotte K. Jarmy

Reflections

We have entered the holiday season: bright lights, exciting displays on every Main Street in America, children itching to be out of school and television shows filled with good will and gifts for everyone on our list. So why did I have an anxiety dream last night?

There I was in a familiar place - a school. But I didn't have the slightest idea where my classes were nor even what I was teaching. Horror of horrors, I ended up teaching a math class. Math! I still have trouble with the nine's table and become frantic when I have misplaced my trusty calculator. I spent the entire dream exhorting office secretaries to please find my schedule. They sneered and said, "Why didn't you call before you came to school?" When I woke up, I still hadn't found my classes. Instead I was engrossed in a conversation about Falstaff with a dear friend who was a Shakespeare maven.

Why Falstaff? Beats me, unless he, too, should have enrolled in a Weight Watchers program. The skies have opened, hard beating rain, driven by fierce winds, made me decide that my water aerobics class would be ridiculous this morning.

Now I remember why anxiety was pounding at my head last night when we went to bed. There are only two weeks before we take off for our cruise down the Mexican coast. So much to do: finish my shopping for Hanukkah gifts, make sure my supervisory duties for Stanford are completed before we leave, write early holiday greeting cards and figure out a way to pack my sequin-bedecked clothing for the formal evening on our ship.

It's also imperative that I stay calm and soothing while Howard's anxiety reaches fever pitch. His new computer has given him a weekend from hell. He must contend with a machine that even his wonderful engineer's brain cannot conquer. He fumes, he rants, he descends into desolation while I, the ever-calm, ever-loving wife, comfort him with hugs and consoling words. "You will learn. It's such a complicated machine, dear."

In addition to his technical malaise, he laid another nightmare on my head. "Mexico has to deal with muggings, abduction and even murder of tourists," he told me after watching a terrifying documentary. "I am not leaving the ship at all." I chewed my nails and countered, "How can we see Acapulco, Puerto Vallarta and Cabo San Lucas from the decks of our ship?" Of course I don't want to be murdered, but I was so looking forward to shopping, for goodness sakes!

So I am still filled with anxiety. There must be a silver lining. Wait, the sun is shining on the walls of our house. Is this a message from above? If so, why didn't the sun come out an hour ago when I decided not to go to the water aerobics class?

Maybe the days will slow down. If the Hanukkah candles burned for eight days eons ago instead of the expected one, why can't I hope for another miracle? Perhaps I can even eat some delicious chocolate every day and not gain weight. I've read that chocolate releases a brain chemical that overrides stress. Really!

The sunshine is fading rapidly. Maybe I'd better not eat that chocolate. Why did I choose red sequins instead of black for my formal jacket? I need a few hugs myself. I'll say my mantra, "You will finish your work on time." I think I'll go back to bed.

Why on earth did I dream about Falstaff? Henry V was rotten to him. But it's better than dreaming about Hamlet's "To be or not to be." I have enough to worry about.

Charlotte K. Jarmy , a Los Altos resident, supervises teachers at Stanford University and is a free-lance writer.