Anxiety Strips

Dear Reader,

I worry a lot. About everything. It’s not healthy, but it seems to be my nature. I worry big, and I worry small. Worrying can be overwhelming. It’s not hard to accumulate worries, with all the roles willingly or unwillingly assumed. There’s work to be done, and emotions to control. Yes, I do yoga. Listening to music helps.

Here’s the story of how one project begat another creative solution.

My index of monthly blogs dates back to September 2004. Judy’s Journal is part of my personal history in creative thinking. You might notice the name of poet Stanley Kunitz (1905-2006) occasionally in the titles. He was born in Worcester, Massachusetts, where I have lived since 1973. In 2009, bashert (destiny) put me together with people in places that would be life changing. Stanley Kunitz became more than a favorite poet. He and his mother, Yetta, became subjects of a research project that led to exhilarating end points, such as writing essays and a reference guide, teaching workshops and classes, and even making paintings inspired by his poems.

“Passing Through”

In 2016, the research took a turn toward Kunitz’s mother, Yetta Jasspon Kunitz Dine (1866-1952), after I transcribed papers which were held in storage by her granddaughter, Dr. Gretchen Kunitz. Once immersed in the task, I realized that this material could be the basis for her biography/memoir. She was one complex and fascinating woman whose story needed to be told.

Here’s the elevator pitch for the book:

Portrayed in Stanley Kunitz’s poems and interviews as an unforgiving and unaffectionate mother, Yetta Dine’s recently recovered letters, memoir and diary reveal a more complex narrative that provides vital insights into the life and work of a major American poet.

Finding a publisher is a tale of its own, but in February 2021, it happened. Joy and happiness. But also, you guessed it, fraught with worries too numerous and esoteric to record here. A few months in, these worries almost took me down. There had to be a way of organizing them, because I couldn’t identify which thing to worry about first. I keep a journal, now three notebooks strong, to record details of this project; I listed the BIG worries on a fresh page. But burying them in a notebook didn’t help. I needed to confront these anxieties every day and get them out in the open, not lurking around every corner of my brain. So, I took a pack of post-it notes, cut some into strips, and stuck them to the edge of a bookshelf in my home office.

The ones you see here are blank - waiting for more worries. A few feet down on the bookshelf are four strips, each with worry words written on them. I can see them as I type this. But here’s the good news There used to be at least double that number. When a problem/worry was resolved, I got to snatch its anxiety strip (insert dramatic music here), tear it into tiny, tiny, tiny pieces and throw away the stress-ridden confetti. Progress had been made, right before my eyes. Time and persistence solve (some) worries. Anxiety strips helped.