In many ways I am still a child. It would be dishonest for me to hide my lingering anguish, which I believe emerged at Girls Scout camp in 5^th grade. So, what was so awful then?

I remember being forced to leave home. And driving far away. A feature of my family trips in the big, brown station wagon was me getting carsick. My head hung limp and heavy out the window like a dying dog gasping for air. So, there’s that.  

My mother packed a suitcase full of snacks, like Oreos. I really liked those little sandwich cookies. But even those were not satisfactory comfort when my roommate went missing. And everyone thought she drowned in the lake.

Perhaps this is “separation anxiety?” That is the state of not feeling safe, ever, because something is missing. I may be physically safe, like in my apartment that is built like a fortress. But the presence of anxiety suggests the absence of something else.

Anxiety proves I am missing something. Or I am just not conscious of whatever gives a soul peace.

Wow!! I feel like Sherlock Homes today!

My first inclination is to stop feeling sorry for myself. Researchers say depression may be a biological defense mechanism that preserves people from too much pain by disabling them in a kind of fuzzy haze. Sort of like nature’s beer.  

My second thought is to invite the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit into my memories. The three comfort me while I am feeling sick in the car. When I arrive at camp, they help me know what to do. They stand on both sides of me and hold my hand. They say: “Don’t be afraid.” I always feel safe and free to ask for help when I need it.

This is how St. Therese of Lisieux describes her experience with her earthly father in Story of a Soul. She saw him as a reflection of the Heavenly Father. My own father did not have the benefit of knowing the Heavenly Father, and only beer to console him in his misery. Me, too. I liked beer. Then I got heavy doses of nature’s beer, too.

Perhaps peace comes from knowing I am not alone? And that God is love? Yes.

So, I will practice the presence of God. So far it feels like a great spotlight shining on me like I am in an examination room. That is just my imagination though. God isn’t eager to find fault or punish or judge. That is beautiful.