there but not there
There’s a few tells that let me know that I am, in fact, getting older. Namely that I make unintentional sounds when unloading the dishwasher or getting clothes from the washer to the dryer; small, almost undetectable, grunts and sighs as if the effort is too much to ask. I heard myself say something that other day that was another tell, so much so I chuckled after the words fell out of my mouth. “They don’t make movies like they used to,” I proclaimed, in response to watching a highly rated movie with my family that we found rather, well, stupid. I then went down the list in my mind of some of my cinematic faves from the 90s and early 2000s. The movie A Beautiful Mind certainly makes the list.
The film tells the true story of John Nash, a Nobel prize winning mathematician, who struggles with paranoid schizophrenia. For the bulk of the movie, you see John interacting with a couple of main characters; a college roommate named Charles, a secret agent named William, and his niece, Marcee. It’s not until much later in the film that you learn that these characters are not actually there, but delusions that enter John’s life during intense episodes of schizophrenia. The film does a masterful job of making you believe they are real. The interactions, the dialogue, and the way these characters move seamlessly among the real characters conjure up compassion for John Nash, as well as the more gnawing question of which of my thoughts are “real”?
Toward the end of the movie, after receiving much help and the right medications, John Nash is able to return to his work as a professor at an Ivy League school. As he walks the path towards his building, you see Charles and Marcee a few yards away, clearly trying to get his attention. They’re eyeing him as if to say, “Come on, you know you want to believe we are here. You know you want to be with us.” But John, humbled and focused, is able to give them a quick nod of acknowledgment then looks away from them and keeps walking. He even asks a colleague if he sees them, which he, of course, does not.
And while most of us will not personally experience the torture of a schizophrenic delusion, I’m not sure that some of our own thoughts aren’t that far off. An intrusive thought is a commonplace experience for most people. They’ll be driving down the road and suddenly become aware they have the power to drive off a cliff. The thought is involuntary, unwanted, and often deals with some kind of danger or harm, but has nothing to do with the actual intentions of the person having the thought. The thought really happens, but the content is not to be trusted. This is how John was able to see his “former companions” and not entertain them to the point that they became a mainstay in his daily experience.
There’s much to be said for this way of understanding anxious or intrusive thoughts. The world feels shakier than it ever has and experiencing anxiety in the midst of it all seems as natural as getting goosebumps at a sudden gust of wind. But what then? What do we do with anxious thoughts that sometimes come in barrages and won’t leave us alone? I think one of the ways we steward these thoughts is to become familiar with their tone and tenor. What time of day are they usually loudest? What are they asking of me? When I align with them do they get more demanding? Is it laced with questions rather than statements? Does it feel like a thumping in my chest rather than an intuition in my gut?
Over time I believe we can develop what I would call a discerning palette when it comes to anxious or unwanted thoughts, not so we become obsessed with them but, on the contrary, so we can break ranks with them. Once John Nash understood that his “friends” weren’t really there, they got quieter and more distant. They called for him, but he learned to stay the course by noticing them without letting them take the lead. I wonder if that’s a reasonable hope for any anxious thought. What if we came out from under the pressure of never having an anxious or involuntary thought, and instead aimed to make them quieter and more distant. We can give them a nod of acknowledgment but ultimately stay the course. This is my hope this year, as well as something I will be practicing. Will you join me?
Kristin Leathers began work as a Licensed Clinical Mental Health Counselor in 2008 and became a member of Barnabas Triad in 2019. In addition, she has worked for Young Life for 14 years. She earned her MA in Counseling from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary and her undergraduate degree from Meredith College. Kristin has been married for 17 years to her husband, Eric, and together they have two children. Kristin enjoys being with her friends, playing games, exercising, and all things related to home design. She is proud of her family, her work, and to be rounding out her third time through all seasons of Downton Abbey.
