Anxiety

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Generation Anxiety: A Millennial and Gen Z Guide to Staying Afloat in an Uncertain World (2023)

  This is the definition of empowerment. So much of our distress around our bodies is rooted in our concern about how people will perceive them. But why should their opinions matter? Do these random strangers, or even the people closest to you, get to determine how you feel about yourself? If the answer is yes, I think we may need to reevaluate that one. When you have someone else deciding your self-worth based on their evaluation of your physical appearance, you are forgoing your power entirely. This is the opposite of empowered acceptance. And let me ask a follow-up question here: Why don’t you deserve that power? Why aren’t you enough on your own to decide how you feel about your body and how you live in it? I hope this book can be a jolt that gets you to realize that no one but you should determine how you feel in your skin. I realize there are larger systemic forces at play that make these mind games harder to win, but I will say this—the cycle starts to end when we stop buying into the myth that we need to look a certain way. It’s simple and so dang hard at the same time. Be the way that you want to be. Unapologetically so. When you do this, your anxiety will likely abate. When you’re not worrying about what everyone thinks (which you can’t control anyway), your anxiety starts to lose its grip. The fear tactics of worrying how others perceive you no longer apply. You’ve got better things to do. This is ultimately about giving yourself permission to own who you are—and it doesn’t need to be contingent on how you look. This is the empowered piece —and it’s where you need to take action. You can’t think your way into being more confident. You have to show yourself. One of my goals for Casey was to help her get more comfortable in her body. She often appeared very tight in session—her chest almost caved in on itself and her smile was fixed without showing her teeth. I could see that she was so afraid of looking like a fool that she constricted herself into nothingness. There was no goofiness—no element of play—in how she presented. Even across the screen, it seemed that it was hard for her to breathe. I’ve seen this happen for many clients, where they’ve locked everything in place to prevent any potential misstep from happening. Avoiding embarrassment is their primary goal. When I see clients come in like this, it tells me that we need to loosen up. So what if your outfit looks silly? Or if you walk out of the bathroom and there’s toilet paper on your shoes?

• From H Is for Hawk (2014)

  I caper about. I chuck chick corpses high in the air. They fall with a thump to the grass and she doesn’t even turn her head to track their sad parabolae. I whistle some more. Wave my arms. ‘Mabel!’ I shout. ‘Come on!’ A sash window grates – an upstairs window of the huge Georgian house I’ve been pretending isn’t there. A maid leans out. Black dress, white pinafore, white hat. Nothing about this strikes me as strange. I have followed my hawk and walked backwards in time. It’s 1923. Any minute now Poirot will wander towards me across the lawn. Only later do I realise I had probably interrupted some erotic afternoon adventure. ‘Are you all right?’ she calls. ‘I’m really sorry!’ I shout back. ‘I’ve lost my hawk.’ I point vaguely up at the tree. ‘I’m trying to get her back. I’m so sorry to trespass on your lawn; I’ll be gone soon. Just desperate to get her back.’ ‘Oh?’ She thinks about it for a second, looks up at the tree. Then she looks down at me. ‘That’s . . . fine,’ she says. ‘I only wanted to see if you were all right.’ She slams the window. The window slams hard, and the hawk moves. She flies from tree to tree, taking me away from the lawn towards the edge of the wood. The trees here are taller: now my hawk is the size of a thumbnail. Light shines dully from her spangled front. And out of nowhere, her half-size copy, a miniature doppelgänger, appears. The female sparrowhawk stoops at her, turns, and stoops again. It’s like Peter Pan being mobbed by his own shadow. My hawk flies to the next tree. By now I’ve no discernible thoughts. I know she won’t come down. I must just follow her, stumbling through bushes in a quixotic delirium. Snowberries, I think, as the white nubs brush against my hawking waistcoat. Didn’t Victorian gamekeepers plant them as cover for pheasants? Oh. Oh no. As soon as the thought is made, I see her twist out of the treetop, swerve to avoid a branch, and then stoop at a fifty-degree angle, wings almost entirely closed. It’s exciting enough to make me hold my breath, but I haven’t time: I’m already running. I duck under an electric fence, and my heart sinks. She’s stooped into a city of pheasants. They are everywhere. We shouldn’t be here. We shouldn’t be here. I can hear her bell ringing. Where is she? Over the muddy ditch, and I’m in the wood. It is silent with leaves and fear. Then I hear pheasants running. I see one, two, three crouching in mortal terror. And then a blue-rumped cock pheasant burning copper against the leaves kicked up behind him, running hell for leather along the ground thirty feet away. Mabel comes up behind him like a gust of wind carrying the angel of death. I can’t stop this.

• From Generation Anxiety: A Millennial and Gen Z Guide to Staying Afloat in an Uncertain World (2023)

  While you can have just obsessions or compulsions to meet diagnostic criteria, Luís was experiencing both. And while some clients have a specific set of triggers, Luís’s symptoms ran the gamut from circling the block out of fear that he hit someone with his car to a fear of germs on the toilet seat and the obsessive thought (content warning) of stabbing his father. If you’re having a strong reaction to reading that, it’s understandable. But just imagine your brain being pelted by these unwanted thoughts and images on a daily basis all the time—that is OCD in a nutshell. I know that for many of you reading this book, you don’t have to imagine this. What I just described is all too real for you. I’ve had many clients say it feels like their brain is “on fire.” Perhaps yours has been too and you’re looking for the fire extinguisher. OCD always pulls on my heartstrings. It can be incredibly painful, and I could tell that Luís was worn-out by his battle. Among the fears previously listed, he was also petrified of saying the “wrong” thing. He would scroll through his phone meticulously, worrying that he said or did something that would incriminate him, make him lose his job, or ostracize him from society. He would analyze conversations with friends and avoided ever sharing his opinion for fear that someone would disagree with him and rage against him. Even though he couldn’t think of anything that would be damaging to his reputation (and was truly one of the kindest and softest-spoken souls you could ever meet), he fretted over the possibility that he could have done something that would derail his life. Now, whether or not you’re relating to Luís’s experience, I believe this content is likely still of value—OCD diagnosis or not. While OCD is in a section of the DSM-5 that’s separate from other anxiety disorders, most of us can relate to experiencing obsessive thoughts to some degree, and wanting to engage in some compulsive behaviors to make ourselves feel better. To meet full criteria for diagnosis, a person needs to engage in obsessions or compulsions for at least an hour each day and/or experience significant distress socially, occupationally, or in other areas of functioning. 31 While only about 1 percent of the US population meets the full diagnostic criteria for OCD (equating to about 2 to 3 million adults at any given time), we can each identify, if not empathize, with the framework of how obsessions and compulsions work. 32 OCD can look and feel many different ways. It’s not just the typical “germophobia” that people reference.

• From Generation Anxiety: A Millennial and Gen Z Guide to Staying Afloat in an Uncertain World (2023)

  That’s why I’m such an advocate for getting our bloodwork done. It’s not uncommon for me to see clients spend thousands of dollars on therapy when the root of their anxiety is tied to a hormonal imbalance or a nutritional deficiency. If a client is presenting with any symptoms that could be biologically driven (insomnia, low energy, or gastrointestinal issues, for example), I almost always recommend they get a blood panel done with either their general physician or a naturopathic doctor so that we can understand at baseline how their body is doing. There can be invaluable answers in your bloodwork that could be the ticket to your recovery. So many of us keep ourselves in a state of purgatory because we’re afraid of the pain of a needle or we’re worried we won’t be able to handle the news if something is actually wrong. But it’s when you’ve empowered yourself with this data that you can take meaningful action. You do not need to keep yourself in the cycle of worry, wondering why, for example, you’re constantly feeling foggy or exhausted, why your skin is frequently breaking out, or why you struggle to get an erection (yep, we’re going there, because too many men suffer in silence about this one). There may be some easily explainable answers, and it all starts with getting your bloodwork done. I’ve seen the power of this in my own life. While I’ve grappled with emetophobia for basically as long as I can remember, I was finding that my panic attacks were spiraling out of control in recent years. If I felt like I was trapped (in a plane, on a bus, or even stuck inside a booth at a restaurant), it wasn’t uncommon for me to eventually start shaking, feel incredibly nauseous, and have difficulty breathing. My brain would start thinking of all the worst-case scenarios, especially, “What will happen if I throw up right here at the table?” It was getting harder and harder to deny my symptoms and I wondered whether others were catching on. I was at a breaking point in the fall of 2020. While I’d done exposure therapy for these panic attacks (as I covered in chapter 4), it wasn’t until I began seeing a naturopathic doctor who recommended that I get my bloodwork done that things started to turn around. Soon after, I learned that I had vitamin D, vitamin B 12 , and magnesium deficiencies.

• From The Four Vision Quests of Jesus (2015)

  Each one of Matthew’s four vision quest stories appears within a context of Native history and culture. These contexts vary as I have tried to use the wisdom of different Native communities to articulate an interpretation of Christian themes, e.g., Lakota for the Plains tradition, Choctaw for the Woodland tradition, Hopi for the Desert tradition. At the end of the book I have “endnotes” to share references I used for that chapter or to offer a brief commentary. My goal in writing this book is to make a contribution toward the continuing development of a Native American Christian theology based on the Native Covenant, the tradition given to our people by God over 30,000 years of our spiritual evolution on this continent, a land sovereign to our nations and sacred to our people. I hope this theology will be a support to all persons seeking spiritual wisdom and reconciliation. Thank you for reading it. Welcome to the family. Chapter 1THE QUESTOn a cold autumn morning in 1973 I went out onto the roof of the apartment building where I lived in Cambridge, Massachusetts, which was student housing at the seminary I attended. It was an old brick building, four or five stories high, sitting in the midst of Harvard University. I walked out onto the flat roof and looked up at the gray New England sky. Dark clouds drifted by. The city was quiet, just waking up for the start of another day. I took a small box of cornmeal that I had bought at the local grocery store, opened it, and slowly poured it out into a circle around me. I stood in this circle and began to pray. I turned to acknowledge the four sacred directions, calling on the spirit of each one to surround me. I prayed to the Creator above me and the Earth below me to hold me in a spiritual equilibrium. I spread my arms and asked my ancestors to hear me and come to support me in any way they could. I called on the name of Jesus. I did all of these things because I was deeply troubled. I was a young, twenty-something Native American attending a Christian seminary to become a priest. I had chosen to do so because I felt I was called by God to a religious vocation. I believed in Jesus Christ as the Son of God and I wanted to follow him. But now I was having doubts. My doubts came from a book by Vine Deloria, Jr. called God Is Red .1 Deloria, a Native American author from South Dakota, took the position that Christianity was not the religion for Native American people. Later in life, I met Vine and we became friends. I even knew his father, a very well respected Episcopal priest and Lakota elder who served the church in South Dakota.

• From A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (BDB) (1907)

  TAN ₪ vb. be anxious, concerned, fear (Talm. 87, 287 id.)—Qal Pf. 3 ms. 8) consec. 189° 107; 2fs. FIST Is 577; Impf. 3 ms. INT Je ;ד‎ STS ץ‎ 38%; Pt. as Je 38%, DYN Je 42'°;—1. be anxious, concerned, with reference to, in behalf of, c. 2 ז‎ ₪ 9° 107; 7d. c. מ[‎ 16 42" (famine personif.); sq. ‘NEM ץש‎ 38"; be anxious, abs. Je17® (|[NT). 4. fear, dread, sq. acc. of pers. feared Is 57" (|| 8%) Je 38° (where also sq. cl. with }8). 178 דאר TAWA adj.gent. = subst. ;הג‎ 1. people dwelling in Geshur (supr.) Dt 3% Jos 127" % 2. a tribe of, or near, the Philistines 708 also 1 27% but del G (not GL) cf. We Dr; rd. possibly אשורי‎ Homi4aheet- tia ® 29 2° 1d. הג'‎ for האשורי‎ . vb. feel with the hand, feel,‏ | שש]+ Pa., ac;‏ שש stroke (NH 20. Ar. 25, Aram.‏ Eth. 70M; or "Twv%; stroke, touch)—Pi. Impf.‏ pl. coh. NWY22 Is 59%, NVWI 00., grope, grope‏ ז for cf. Che.‏ Ki wine-press. DAn.pr. Wdadj.gent. OFA n.pr.loc. MM) adj. v. sub .ינן‎ Tana n.pr.m. (V unknown) a son of Aram Gn 10% =1 Chi”, רד T ANT u.pr.m. an Edomite, servant of Saul 18 21° 22°82 (yee beac ה‎ INV ץ‎ 52? (title). TANT n.f. anxiety, anxious care—1I87 Jos22%+5+.; anwtety for=for fear of, c. jD Jos 22%; anxiety Pr 12% (where 0. verb. mase. cf. Now), Je 49” ד"‎ 032; anwious care Ez 4% 12” (in both רעש||) 1218 ,(שמָמון|‎ and M39). ANT fish, ef. 3 sub .דנה‎ +N וד‎ vb. fly swiftly, dart through the air (cf. perhaps Ar. 315 rum vehemently (of camel))—Qal Jmpf. AYT! Dt 28% + 2 t.; NTA p18" (> || 2 S22" NIN); fly swiftly, dart, of eagle Dt 28”, in simile of swift army; of Chaldaeans comp. with eagle, in judgment against Moab & Edom Je 48% 49” (in both TAN n.f. a bird of prey, possibly kite B Saad. BoM! Di 1 1% Aram. SO, J$.9; NH דיה‎ of diff. birds of prey; name prob. fr. flying, swooping), Lv11™ forbidden as food; ef. also Dt 14% MBI) ואתִרהָאיָה‎ ANI, where for הראה‎ rd. INIT & del. 7277; so Sam G; ef. 6 1 [דיה]‎ n.f. id.—frequenting ruins, cf. Di 7.6.; דיות‎ Is 347 (on הדיה‎ Dt 14” cf. foregoing). דאר‎ u.pr. v. sub 11. .דור‎ דב .דבב v.‏ דוב ,דב of foll.; existence & mng. dub.)‏ ¥ ) דבא n.{m.] perh. rest, but sense very‏ [דּבָא]ז doubtful 6 Ar. 4s rest, Kamus; © 6 35 Onk‏ strength, reading perh. רבאך‎ cf. Sam. רביך‎ , vid. Di) דּבְאְִּי‎ PIP Dt 33%.

• From A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (BDB) (1907)

  As to the arrangement of the work, the Editors decided at an early stage of their preparations to follow the Thesawrus, and the principal dictionaries of other Semitic languages, in classifying words according to their stems, and not to adopt the purely alphabetical order which has been common in Hebrew dictionaries. The relation of Semitic derivatives to the stems is such as to make this method of grouping them an obvious demand from the scientific point of view. It is true that practical objections to it may be offered, but these do not appear convincing. One is that it compels the Editor to seem to decide, by placing each word under a given stem, some questions of etymology PREFACE “ix \ which in his own mind are still open. The number of such cases, however, is comparatively small, and the uncertainty can always be expressed by a word of caution. And even if the objection were much more important it would be better to assume the burden of it, in order to give students of Hebrew, from the outset, the immense advantage of familiarity with the structure and formative laws of the Hebrew vocabulary in their daily work. Another objection in- cidental to this arrangement is thought to be the increased difficulty of reference. This difficulty will diminish rapidly as students advance in knowledge, and by the practice of setting words formed by prefix or aftix—or otherwise hard for the beginner to trace—a second time in their-alphabetical place, with cross- references, it is hoped to do away with the difficulty almost entirely. The Aramaic of the Bible has been separated from the Hebrew, and placed by itself at the end of the book, as a separate and subordinate element of the language of the Old Testament. This is a change from that older practice which, since it was adopted here, has been made also. by Siegfried and Stade, and by Buhl, and which the Editors believe will commend itself on grounds of evident propriety. The question of adding an English-Hebrew Index has been carefully con- sidered. With reluctance it has been decided, for practical reasons, not to do so. The original limits proposed for the Lexicon have already been far exceeded, and the additional time, space, and cost which an Index would require have presented a barrier which the Editors could not see their way to remove.

• From The Diary of a Young Girl (The Definitive Edition) (2020)

  Yours, Anne MONDAY EVENING, NOVEMBER 8,1943 Dearest Kitty, If you were to read all my letters in one sitting, you’d be struck by the fact that they were written in a variety of moods. It annoys me to be so dependent on the moods here in the Annex, but I’m not the only one: we’re all subject to them. If I’m engrossed in a book, I have to rearrange my thoughts before I can mingle with other people, because otherwise they might think I was strange. As you can see, I’m currently in the middle of a depression. I couldn’t really tell you what set it off, but I think it stems from my cowardice, which confronts me at every turn. This evening, when Bep was still here, the doorbell rang long and loud. I instantly turned white, my stomach churned, and my heart beat wildly -- and all because I was afraid. At night in bed I see myself alone in a dungeon, without Father and Mother. Or I’m roaming the streets, or the Annex is on fire, or they come in the middle of the night to take us away and I crawl under my bed in desperation. I see everything as if it were actually taking place. And to think it might all happen soon! Miep often says she envies us because we have such peace and quiet here. That may be true, but she’s obviously not thinking about our fear. I simply can’t imagine the world will ever be normal again for us. I do talk about “after the war,” but it’s as if I were talking about a castle in the air, something that can Ii never come true. I see the eight of us in the Annex as if we were a patch of blue sky surrounded by menacing black clouds. The perfectly round spot on which we’re standing is still safe, but the clouds are moving in on us, and the ring between us and the approaching danger is being pulled tighter and tighter. We’re surrounded by darkness and danger, and in our desperate search for a way out we keep bumping into each other. We look at the fighting down below and the peace and beauty up above. In the meantime, we’ve been cut off by the dark mass of clouds, so that

• From The Diary of a Young Girl (The Definitive Edition) (2020)

  relieving herself on some newspapers or between the cracks in the floor boards, so we have good reason to fear the splatters and, even worse, the stench. The new Moortje in the warehouse has the same problem. Anyone who’s ever had a cat that’s not housebroken can imagine the smells, other than pepper and thyme, that permeate this house. I also have a brand-new prescription for gunfire jitters: When the shooting gets loud, proceed to the nearest wooden staircase. Run up and down a few times, making sure to stumble at least once. What with the scratches and the noise of running and falling, you won’t even be able to hear the shooting, much less worry about it. Yours truly has put this magic formula to use, with great success! Yours, Anne M. Frank MONDAY, JUNE 5, 1944 New problems in the Annex. A quarrel between Dussel and the Franks over the division of butter. Capitulation on the part of Dussel. Close friendship between the latter and Mrs. van Daan, flirtations, kisses and friendly little smiles. Dussel is beginning to long for female companionship. The van Daans don’t see why we should bake a spice cake for Mr. Kugler’s birthday when we can’t have one ourselves. All very petty. Mood upstairs: bad. Mrs. van D. has a cold. Dussel caught with brewer’s yeast tablets, while we’ve got none. The Fifth Army has taken Rome. The city neither destroyed nor bombed. Great propaganda for Hitler. Very few potatoes and vegetables. One loaf of bread was moldy. Scharminkeltje (name of new warehouse cat) can’t stand pepper. She sleeps in the cat box and does her business in the wood shavings. Impossible to keep her. Bad weather. Continuous bombing of Pas de Calais and the west coast of France. No one buying dollars. Gold even less interesting. The bottom of our black moneybox is in sight. What are we going to live on next month?

• From Tipping the Velvet (1998)

  I’m the girl who flirted with you once eighteen months ago? I’m the girl who asked you to supper, then left you standing, without a word, on Judd Street?‘I’m a friend of Miss Derby’s,’ I said at last.Florence blinked. ‘Miss Derby?’ she said. ‘Miss Derby, from the Ponsonby Trust?’I nodded. ‘Yes. I - I met you once, a long time ago. I was passing through Bethnal Green, on a visit, and thought I might call. I brought you some watercresses ...’ We turned our heads and gazed at them. They had been placed on a table near the door and looked very sad, for I had fallen upon them when I swooned. The leaves were crushed and blackened, the stems broken, the paper damp and green.Florence said, ‘That was kind of you.’ I smiled a little nervously. For a second there was a silence - then the baby gave a kick and a yell, and she bent to pick it up and hold it against her breast, saying as she did so: ‘Shall Mama take you? There, now.’ Then the man reappeared, bearing a cup of tea and a plate of bread and butter which he set, with a smile, on the arm of my chair. Florence placed her chin upon the baby’s head. ‘Ralph,’ she said, ‘this lady is a friend of Miss Derby’s - do you remember, Miss Derby that I used to work for?’‘Good heavens,’ said the man - Ralph. He was still in his shirt-sleeves; now he picked up his jacket from the back of a chair and put it on. I busied myself with my cup and plate. The tea was very hot and sweet: the best tea, I thought, that I had ever tasted. The baby gave another cry, and Florence began to sway and jiggle, and to smooth the child’s head, distractedly, with her cheek. Soon the cry became a gurgle, and then a sigh; and hearing it, I sighed too - but turned it into a breath for cooling my tea with, in case they thought I was about to start up weeping again.There was another silence; then, ‘I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your name,’ said Florence. To Ralph she explained: ‘It seems we met once.’I cleared my throat. ‘Miss Astley,’ I said. ‘Miss Nancy Astley.’ Florence nodded; Ralph held out his hand for mine, and shook it warmly.‘I’m very glad to meet you, Miss Astley,’ he said.

• From Generation Anxiety: A Millennial and Gen Z Guide to Staying Afloat in an Uncertain World (2023)

  You know the feeling—when you can barely keep your eyes open, and it physically hurts to be awake. It’s no walk in the park. And yet, it’s survivable. If we can remember that the pain is temporary and that we can endure discomfort, the insomnia doesn’t have to be so threatening. Remind yourself of all the times when you’ve been able to get through tough days, even on little sleep. It’s not ideal, but it’s doable. And worst case, if you need to call out with a sick day or cancel a meeting to take a nap—do it! If there’s an opportunity to alleviate some pain if you’re suffering, don’t be a martyr to the cause. Take a break. The point is that the pain of exhaustion does not need to be feared—remind yourself of your resilience. And remember—when you are intentional about lying down and resting (even if you’re not actually asleep), that does the body good! This is restorative in itself. If you mentally beat yourself up for not being a good enough sleeper, here are just a few examples of some reframes I used with Suma when she was struggling with insomnia at first: INITIAL THOUGHT WHEN FRUSTRATED WITH INSOMNIA: REFRAMED THOUGHT: “I’m so upset that I can’t sleep! What’s wrong with me?!” “I’m noticing that I can’t sleep right now. It might not be pleasant but it’s okay to be awake right now.” “I’m going to feel miserable tomorrow. I’m going to flunk my test because of this.” “I may not feel great tomorrow but it’s just one day. I’ve gotten through hard days feeling tired before and I’ve still performed well. Plus, I can take a nap after my test if I need it.” “This is such a waste of time to lie here. This is doing nothing for me, being wide awake.” “Even if I’m not asleep, my body is still getting rest by lying here right now.” If you’re like Suma and your anxiety can get the best of your sleeping habits, here are some sleep hygiene tips.

• From Tipping the Velvet (1998)

  It was very brief; it was signed by Florence herself - Florence Banner, I now saw her full name to be - and was addressed to Miss Derby. Please accept notice of my resignation... it ran. I didn’t read that part. For at the top right-hand corner of the page there was a date, and an address - not that of Freemantle House but, clearly, the home address that I was not allowed to know. A number, followed by the name of a street: Quilter Street, Bethnal Green, London E. I memorised it at once.Meanwhile, the woman talked kindly on. I had scarcely heard her, but now I raised my head and saw what she was about. She had taken a little key from her pocket and unlocked one of the drawers in the desk. She was saying,‘... not something we make a habit of doing, at all; but I can see that you are very weary. If you take a bus from here to Aldgate, you can pick up another there, I believe, that will take you along the Mile End Road, to Stratford.’ She held out her hand. There were three pennies in it. ‘And perhaps you might get yourself a cup of tea, along the way?’I took the coins, and mumbled some word of thanks. As I did so a bell rang, close at hand, and we both gave a start. She glanced at a clock upon the wall. ‘My last clients of the day,’ she said.I took the hint, and rose and put on my hat. There were footsteps in the passageway below, now, and the sound of stumbling on the stairs. She ushered me to the door, and called to her visitors: ‘Come up, that’s right. It’s rather steep, I know, but worth the effort...’ A young man, followed by a woman, emerged from the gloom. They were both rather swarthy - Italians, I guessed, or Greeks - and looked terribly pinched and poor. We all shuffled around in the doorway of the office for a moment, smiling and awkward; then at last the lady and the young couple were inside the room, and I was alone at the head of the staircase.The lady raised her head, and caught my eye.‘Good luck!’ she called, a little distractedly. ‘I do so hope you find your friend.’ Having no intention at all, now, of travelling to Stratford, I did not, as the lady recommended, catch a bus. I did, however, buy myself a cup of tea, from a stall with an awning to it, on the High Street. And when I gave back my cup to the girl, I nodded. ‘Which way,’ I asked, ‘to Bethnal Green?’I had never been much further east before - alone, and on foot - than Clerkenwell. Now, limping down the City Road towards Old Street, I felt the beginnings of a new kind of nervousness.

• From Tipping the Velvet (1998)

  I had taken to scrubbing my hands very carefully, since meeting Kitty Butler; and if they were ever a little stained at the creases now, it was as much with paint and hot-black and blanc-de-perle, as with vinegar. Even so, there was the scent of oysters on them still, and a slender thread - it might have been the bristle from the back of a lobster, the whisker from a shrimp - beneath one of my nails. How would it be, I thought, to surrender my family, my home, all my oyster-girl’s ways?And how would it be to live at Kitty’s side, brim-full of a love so quick, and yet so secret, it made me shake? Chapter 3 [image "005" file=wate_9781101078198_oeb_005_r1.jpg] I wish, for sensation’s sake, I could say that my parents heard one word of Kitty’s proposal and forbade me, absolutely, to refer to it again; that when I pressed the matter, they cursed and shouted; that my mother wept, my father struck me; that I was obliged, in the end, to climb from a window at dawn, with my clothes in a rag at the end of a stick, and a streaming face, and a note pinned to my pillow saying Do not try to follow me ... But if I said these things, I would be lying. My parents were reasonable, not passionate, people. They loved me, and they feared for me; the idea of allowing their youngest daughter to travel in the care of an actress and a music-hall manager to the grimmest, wickedest city in England was, they knew, a mad one, that no sane parent should entertain for longer than a second. But because they loved me so, they could not bear to have me grieve.

• From A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (BDB) (1907)

  Faye WMT vb. haste, make haste (As. 2asu, D1?™, Eth. Ai; on this vb. v. N66 58) Qal Pf. 3 ms. חש‎ Dt 32* (or Pé., but v. Di), rs. NWO > 119% Impf. 3 fs. vinn) (sic!) Jb 31° Gesi?®9; Imv. ז חוּשָה‎ 20%+4+6t.y,+ 71” Qr (Kt (חישה‎ ; Inf. sf. חושי‎ Th 207; Pe. act. vn Hb *ד‎ + 18 8 in n.pr.; pass. UN Nu 32"; but v.infr. :—make haste Dt 32 )|| (קרוב‎ p19; in prophetic n.pr. 12 UO שָלָל‎ 2 Is 815; of eagle (in sim. of Chald. army) נשר חש לאכול‎ Hb 18; Jb 32° subj. ,רגל‎ sq. חושי בִי ;עלדמרמה‎ Jb 20° my haste in me, 1.6. my inward excite- ment—esp. Jmv. 18 20% ,(מהרה||)‎ and in py: sq. ny? 22% 38% yo! 70? 71” (Qr); sq. yo® 1411; pt. pass. DWN yon Nu 32”, but prob. for DWN (Kn Di comp. Ex 13" etc.); Ba*?™ retains DWN and regards it as act. (in- trans.)=hastening. Hiph. 27: החיש‎ Juz0%; Impf. יחיש‎ Is 28%; nen eoh.. 5° (Ges**5); אֶחִישָה‎ coh. / 55°; sf. אחִישנָה‎ Is 60”;—1. shew haste, act quickly Ju 20"; hasten, come quickly Is 5 (subj. מעשהו‎ , ||"; others: let him hasten on lis work), UT Is 28" hasten away (flee), or hasten about distractedly (si vera 1.; Che Guthe rd. ימיש‎ yield, give way). 2. transit. c. sf. Is 60” J will hasten it; c. ace. 55° I would hasten (=secure quickly) my escape. | tT חיש‎ adv. quickly, כי גז חיש‎ go” of passing away of human life. TI. [WITT] vb. feel, enjoy (with the senses) (Now comp. Ar. \ == feel, perceive by senses; NH UN feel pain; Aram. as, WN, feel pain; חושה Eth. :ית‎ perception)—only Qal Jmpf. 3 ms. | WAM יאכל גּמי‎ 1D Ec 2” who can eat and who can feel (i.e. enjoy pleasure)? in‏ 1806 == חור n.pr.m. a ‘son’ of‏ חוּשה1 Judah 1 Ch 4’.‏ adj.gent. of foregoing :--1. of‏ חשתיז וש 20% Sri Ch‏ כ הח ant.‏ ו Ch ra?) 0 in hae.‏ 1= so‏ 85% 2 ח' 87‘ .1 npr.m.‏ חוטי1 AY 15% friend of David, so‏ דוד called‏ ,17°4 16b-17-18 I Ch 2 also I S Ti EEE‏ ד cf.‏ הלה K 4” father of one of Solomon’s officers.‏ 2.1 1k own, חשים‎ n.pr.f. wife of Shaharaim of Benjamin, חושים‎ x Ch 8% DWN v2. Gn 46%‏ וּבָנִי דן OWT n.pr.m. of Dan,’N‏ .צנ שּמֶם = cf, WN 32 DVN 1 Ch 7? (v. Be VB);‏ v2,‏ שוּחְתִי (q.v-) Nu 26% ef.‏ Town, own n.pr.m. a king of Edom: ovn Gn 3645 —pvan 1 Ch 1°45, onin .ץצ‎ sub onn. חזה .1 sub‏ חַזַהאֶל .+ חִזְאָל +1. STITT .מל‎ (almost wholly poet.) see, be- hold (Aram. Vue, NIM, sce, perceive with the eyes ; Palm. Ethp. Innx = bogey Reckendorf 7"% 9; Ar. SP perceive with the inner vision, only ; = astronomer, astrologer)—Qal Pf. ץ ח'‎ 58" + 6% 00 Pr 22” 29% NN Is 57% NN זל‎

• From The History of Christian Theology (2008)

  96 Lecture 27: From Puritans to Revivalists Jonathan Edwards, who was Stoddard’s grandson, rejected the Halfway covenant and sparked a revival instead. Revival, in this original sense, meant a period of months in which there was a special outpouring of grace resulting in many conversions. Revival, for Edwards, was God’s solution to the problem that conversion cannot be accomplished by human effort but solely by the grace of God. Wesley and others involved in the Great Awakening of 1740–1742 in New England read Edwards’s book about the revival in his church in 1734–1735. Jonathan Edwards articulated a Calvinist theology of conversion and revival. The high Calvinism of Puritans like Edwards left unregenerate sinners no recourse but to wait for God to convert them. Hence Puritan preachers did not have the option of preaching what Luther called the Gospel, the promise of grace to sinners. The conversions in Edwards’s church followed an experiential pattern that re À ected Edwards’s theology. The pattern begins with conviction or awakening, that is, a sense of anxiety and guilt produced by the preaching of the Law, which shows unregenerate sinners that they deserve damnation. The key turning point is when the sinners give up struggling against the Law and admit, in the depths of their heart, that God is right to condemn them. This admission is precisely the beginning of an unsel ¿ sh faith which honors the truth and righteousness of God. Edwards’s famous and terrifying sermon, “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” is designed to facilitate such awakening. Edwards had a profound inÀ uence on later New England theology, especially in his concept of the human will. Edwards argued against Arminian notions Portrait of preacher John Wesley, the greatest Arminian theologian of all time. © Photos.com/Thinkstock.

• From Tipping the Velvet (1998)

  I had said that I would see her at the entrance to the public house at six o’clock, and it must, I thought, be past six now ... Even as I thought it, the carriage slowed in the traffic and I saw her standing there, a little way along the street, waiting for me. The brougham crawled still slower; from behind the lace of its windows I could see her perfectly, frowning to her left and right, then bending her head to look at the watch at her bosom, then raising a hand to tuck a curl in place. Her face, I thought, was so very plain and kind. I had a sudden urge to tug at the latch of the door, and race down the street to her side; I could at least, I thought, call to the driver to stop his horse, so that I might shout some apology to her ...But while I sat, anxious and undecided, the traffic grew swift, the carriage gave a jerk, and in a moment Judd Street and plain, kind Florence were far behind me. I could not bear the thought, then, of asking the forbidding Mr Shilling to turn the horse around, for all that I was his mistress for the afternoon. And besides, what would I say to her? I would never, I supposed, be free to meet with her again; and I could hardly expect to have her visit me at Diana’s. She would be surprised, I thought, and cross, when I didn’t turn up: the third woman to be disappointed by me that day. I was sorry, too - but, on reflection, not terribly sorry. Not terribly sorry at all. When I returned to Felicity Place - for that, I saw now, was the name of the square in which my mistress had her home - I was greeted with gifts. I found Diana in the upstairs parlour, bathed and dressed at last, and with her hair in plaits and elaborately pinned. She looked handsome, in a gown of grey and crimson, with her waist very narrow and her back very straight. I recalled those laces and ties I had fumbled over the night before: there was no sign of them now beneath the smooth sheath of her bodice. The thought of that invisible linen and corsetry, which a maid’s steady fingers had fastened and concealed and my own trembling hands, I guessed, would later uncover and undo, was rather thrilling.

• From Generation Anxiety: A Millennial and Gen Z Guide to Staying Afloat in an Uncertain World (2023)

  170 Part of why we can feel panicky is because the vagus nerve, the longest cranial nerve in the body, can get dysregulated and start ricocheting a whole host of unpleasantries in the body, including but not limited to IBS, heartburn, dizziness, tachycardia, seizures, and migraines. 171 The vagus nerve holds tremendous power in our bodies as it toggles back and forth between our fight-flight mode and our parasympathetic mode, which is when we feel more at ease. Feeling anxious can be an indicator that the vagus nerve is not cooperating with us. Thankfully, there are some quick ways that you can start to regulate it. Bookmark this page to turn back to as a quick reference the next time you feel panicky: • Use cold water: A chilled drink on your forehead or a thirty-second cold shower can trigger feelings of relaxation. 172 • Sing along with music: Not only does singing strengthen our breathing muscles and upregulate immunoglobulin A, which improves our immune system, the physical act of singing or humming stimulates the vagus nerve when we exhale. 173 • Get a twenty-second hug: This releases the cuddle hormone, oxytocin, in our bodies and can bring a sense of peace and closeness while increasing our heart rate variability. 174 • Breathwork: By practicing diaphragmatic breathing (where you can feel your belly expanding), the vagus nerve is activated and we have improved oxygen saturation. 175 If you’re confused by this or not sure how to practice belly breathing, lie on the floor and put a few books on your stomach. This will help you feel your stomach filling with air, rather than your chest. There are so many great breathwork apps that can help you with this, including Calm, Headspace, Insight Timer, and more. Whether you’re grappling with panic attacks, struggling with insomnia, or wanting to be more intentional about the food you put in your body, I hope this chapter will help inspire you to settle into yourself. Invest the time to understand what’s going on beneath your surface (start by getting your bloodwork done!) and then take the steps to actually heal. This won’t be a one-and-done resolution. This is a lifetime of daily choices—it’s a lifestyle. Living from a place of wellness takes dedication. It’s a lot easier to no-show on an appointment than to do the work sometimes. However, when you show up for yourself, you’re sending your brain and body a powerful message. You are explicitly saying that you are worth it—that you deserve care. As Suma came to see, things can get better when you take action. The waves of anxiety will come and go, but you can learn how to ride them. Don’t give up on yourself or your body. Give yourself time and gift yourself with options. Your approach to your care can be creative.

• From Tipping the Velvet (1998)

  I sucked at my lip. ‘Some joker is sure to shout “Hurrah” at that point, you know.’ ‘Not really, Nance?’ ‘You may count on it. But you mustn’t let it unsettle you, or you’ll be done for. Go on, now, let’s hear the rest.’ He read the speech - it was a matter of two or three pages, no more - and I listened, and frowned. ‘You will talk into the paper,’ I said at the end. ‘No one will be able to hear. They will get bored, and start talking amongst themselves. I have seen it happen a hundred times.’ ‘But I must read the words,’ he said. I shook my head. ‘You shall have to learn them, there’s nothing else for it. You shall have to get the piece by heart.’ ‘What? All this?’ He gazed miserably at the pages. ‘A day or two’s work,’ I said. Then I put my hand upon his arm. ‘It is either that, Ralph, or we shall have to put you in a funny suit...’ And so through the whole of April and half of May - for of course it took considerably longer than one or two days for him to learn even so much as a quarter of the words - Ralph and I laboured together over his little speech, forcing the phrases into his head and finding all sorts of tricks to make them stay there. I would sit like a prompter, the papers in my hand, Ralph declaiming before me in an effortful monotone; I would have him recite to me over breakfast, or as we washed the dishes, or sat together beside the fire; I would stand outside the kitchen door and have him shout the words out to me as he lay in his bath. ‘How many times have you heard economists say that England is the richest nation in the world? If you were to ask them what they meant by that, they would answer ... they would answer ...’ ‘Ralph! They would answer: Look about you -’ ‘They would answer: Look about you, at our great palaces and public buildings, our country houses and our ...’ ‘Our factories -’ ‘Our factories and our ...’ ‘Our Empire, Ralph!’ In time, of course, I learned the whole wretched speech myself, and could leave the sheets aside; but in time, too, Ralph managed more or less to con it, and was able to stumble through from start to finish, without any prompts at all, and sounding almost sensible.

• From Tipping the Velvet (1998)

  I shall keep my answer rather brief.’ ‘Thank God for something, then!’ called a man at that - as I knew somebody would - and Ralph gazed wildly around the tent for a second, quite distracted. I saw with dismay that he had lost his place, and was forced to glance at the sheets in his hand. There was a horrible silence while he found the spot; when he next spoke, of course, it was into the paper, just as he had used to do in our Quilter Street parlour. ‘How many times,’ he was saying, ‘have you heard economists say that England is the richest nation in the world ... ?’ I found myself reciting it with him, urging him on; but he stumbled, and muttered, and once or twice was forced to tilt his paper to the light, to read it. By now the crowd had begun to groan and sigh and shuffle. I saw the chairman, seated at the back of the platform, making up his mind to step over to him and tell him to speak up or to stop; I saw Florence, pale and agitated to see her brother so awkward - her own griefs, for the moment, quite forgotten. Ralph started on a passage of statistics: ‘Two hundred years ago,’ he read, ‘Britain’s land and capital was worth five hundred million pounds; today it is worth - it is worth -’ He tilted the paper again; but while he did so, a fellow stood up to shout: ‘What are you, man? A socialist, or a schoolmaster?’ And at that, Ralph sagged as if he had been winded. Annie whispered: ‘Oh, no! Poor Ralph! I can’t bear it!’ ‘Neither can I,’ I said. I jumped to my feet, thrust Cyril at her, then hurried to the steps at the side of the platform and ran up them, two at a time. The chairman saw me and half-rose to block my path, but I waved him back and stepped purposefully over to the sweating, sagging Ralph. ‘Oh, Nance,’ he said, as close to tears as I had ever seen him. I took his arm and gripped it tight, and held him in his place before the crowd. They had grown momentarily silent - through sheer delight, I think, at seeing me leap, so dramatically, to Ralph’s side. Now I took advantage of their hush to send my voice across their heads in a kind of roar. ‘So you don’t care for mathematics?’ I cried, picking up the speech where Ralph had let it falter. ‘Perhaps it’s hard to think in millions; well, then, let us think in thousands. Let us think of three hundred thousand. What do you think I am referring to?

• From Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance (1995)

  “I think you’ve got the right to information that could affect your health. But that doesn’t mean Mr. Anderson is gonna think so. I’ll stand behind you, and so will the other parents, but you need to do what makes sense for you.” Sadie pulled her overcoat tightly around herself and looked again at her watch. “We shouldn’t keep Mr. Anderson waiting,” she said, and plunged through the door. From the expression on Mr. Anderson’s face when we walked into his office, it was clear that I hadn’t been expected. He offered us a seat and asked us if we wanted some coffee. “No thank you,” Sadie said. “I really appreciate you seeing us on such short notice.” With her coat still on, she pulled out the legal notice and set it carefully on Mr. Anderson’s desk. “Some of the parents at the school saw this in the paper, and we were worried … well, we wondered if this asbestos maybe was in our apartments.” Mr. Anderson glanced at the notice, then set it aside. “This is nothing to worry about, Mrs. Evans,” he said. “We’re just doing renovation on this building, and after the contractors tore up one of the walls, they found asbestos on the pipes. It’s just being removed as a precautionary measure.” “Well … shouldn’t the same thing, the same precautionary measures, I mean, be taken in our apartments? I mean, isn’t there asbestos there, too?” The trap was laid, and Mr. Anderson’s eyes met mine. A cover-up would generate as much publicity as the asbestos, I had told myself. Publicity would make my job easier. And yet, as I watched Mr. Anderson shift around in his seat, trying to take measure of the situation, there was a part of me that wanted to warn him off. I had the unsettling feeling that his soul was familiar to me, that of an older man who feels betrayed by life—a look I had seen so often in my grandfather’s eyes. I wanted to somehow let Mr. Anderson know that I understood his dilemma, wanted to tell him that if he would just explain that the problems in Altgeld preceded him and admit that he, too, needed help, then some measure of salvation might alight in the room. Instead, I said nothing, and Mr. Anderson turned away. “No, Mrs. Evans,” he said to Sadie. “There’s no asbestos in the residential units. We’ve tested them thoroughly.” “Well, that’s a relief,” Sadie said. “Thank you. Thank you very much.” She rose, shook Mr. Anderson’s hand, and started for the door. I was just about to say something when she turned back toward the project manager. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I forgot to ask you something. The other parents … well, they’d like to see a copy of these tests you took. The results, I mean. You know, just so we can make everybody feel their kids are safe.”