“Nothing but blue skies do I see,” go the words to the song, and it’s sunshine and blue skies that make any situation better for me. On a clear, sunny day, I feel happy, joyous, and free, and my spirit soars up into that vast blue dome of heaven.
On a trip out west a few years ago, I found myself high on a ridge, looking down on a small herd of bison that grazed on the plains below. A young bull, not yet fully grown, seemed to be proving his courage and independence by grazing out beyond the fringes of the crowd.
Every minute or so, he would look back over his shoulder to make sure his family was still where he left them. I can imagine that he felt happy with those blue skies smiling down on him, and safe knowing that his family was close by.
The sky is falling!
Even so, he would sometimes start visibly and begin swishing his little tail furiously in a way that suggested he was annoyed by something not visible to me. I assumed he was irritated by biting insects. Why not?
If he was bothered by insects, at least he had help dealing with them--a little buffalo bird was busy pecking around in the fur on his back, shoulders, and head. If that were the full story, then great! But it wasn’t.
Occasionally, for no reason that I could see, the little bird would be frightened by something. Perhaps she saw the shadow of a hawk or some suspicious movement in the grass.
Each time it happened, the little bird would puff up its chest, open its mouth wide, and emit a high-pitched, “skee-reeeeeeeee,” leaning forward to expel all the air from its lungs until I was sure it would topple over on its face.
I thought this was great fun, but the little bull had another opinion. He took it big! He thought the sky was falling. In one swift move, he would abandon his dream of independence and race back to the protection of the herd.
Minutes later, convincing himself that it was safe once more, he would venture back out away from the herd, and the whole sequence of events would be repeated.
Lesson learned
In a lot of ways, I’m like that young buffalo. I too, have fears that I must face each day in order to live the life I want. I too, am troubled by irksome little bug-a-bears that can irritate and distract the way biting insects do. Small as these annoyances are, they can lead me to become very irritable. If I do nothing to prevent it, the pressure can build up to the bursting point.
Something else I share in common with the buffalo calf is that I have my very own little buffalo bird. Not actually a bird but a region of my brain known as the limbic system.
Although I have all the tools I need to remain in control of my behavior even in stressful situations, I can easily ignore what’s happening around me until my limbic system starts screaming, “The sky is falling!”
Princess Amy
My limbic system is nothing short of a drama queen. I think of it as a spoiled little brat who throws tantrums when she doesn’t get her way. I call her Princess Amy.
When she's not happy with the way things are going, she starts getting emotional. Her two favorite alarms are "Run for your life!" or else, “Off with their heads!” In almost every case, the person in the most danger of losing his head is me.
No one can explain exactly what causes mood disorders, but I know who's to blame—it’s the Princess.
I have normal highs and lows like everyone else, but sometimes I break through the happiness ceiling to full-blown ecstasy. I can quickly move from a state of mild depression to a level of hopelessness and despair.
Anxiety is always around, no matter what else I may be feeling. It may be in the background, adding a little edginess to depression or providing a measure of irritability to a manic episode, or it may be the major player taking center stage.
My buffalo bird
Just like that young buffalo who learned to navigate between independence and safety, I'm still learning to manage my relationship with Princess Amy and her dramatic proclamations.
The blue skies are still there, even when my limbic system insists the sky is falling. Some days I graze confidently at the edges of my comfort zone, and other days I need to retreat to the safety of my herd.
Understanding this dance between courage and caution, between my rational mind and my emotional drama queen, helps me find my way back to those moments when my spirit can soar freely under that vast blue dome of heaven.
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