There is an exchange between two characters in the television series Lanterns where one person asks the other to, “Unclench already!” I could immediately relate to the one who was clenching. I think I have been in a clenched mode most of my life. Not hyper, not tightly wound, not quivering in the corner, not nervous or fearful, and not even uptight. Clench? As I examine the word and what it means to me –– I’d say it’s more like a state of amber alert.
My Boy Scout leader, noticing the mildly timid boy I was, taught me how to be prepared. My best elementary school teachers encouraged my talents so that I could gain confidence. I was always wary of the moods of others, particularly my mother, so I learned to blend into the background. I practised stealth techniques. I found it easier to surprise people with my abilities rather than have them expect too much of me. My youthful comfort level found me often on the sidelines, working for the good of the cause, watching for the right time to step in with an opinion or a helping hand.
Fighters have clenched fists. My fingers were always fully extended so I could catch what was thrown my way. Pacifism felt safer to me than pugilism. Yet my mother enjoyed telling visitors (while embarrassing me) with the story of when I balled-up my fingers at age twelve, ready to tell my peace-loving father not to give my younger sister a mother-mandated spanking for her latest misdemeanour. Such are the contradictions of growing into maturity. It’s a wonder my teeth are in the good shape they are in, what with all my jaw clenching while trying to sort things out in my early years.
In adulthood, after explaining my history to my first personal GP doctor, I was diagnosed with a mild anxiety condition. I researched, as anxious folk do, to understand what level of trouble I was in. Turned out condition was the lesser of syndrome, or disorder. Thank goodness for that! I wouldn’t want my symptoms to be outlined in the latest DSM. I’ll admit, there is certainly a degree of urgency behind my thoughts, which can be expressed as clenching when I’m waiting to get my way. For instance job interviews used to give me fits of insecurity combined with salivating lust for work I really wanted. The desperate feeling that my professional life would be over if I didn’t get hired would torment my consciousness.
Recovering from trauma has been something I seem to manage. It’s the before fantasies that ball me up faster than any regretful scenarios. I don’t do doubt. I can be quick to visualize a comforting blanket or even a rope tethering me from stormy seas. I have discovered ways to unclench from the need for immediate gratification. When life piles on more stress than I want to handle, I have prescribed medication that smooths the waters while still giving my mind full scope to navigate or problem solve. I can survive to see another day.
