On Sucking Thumbs and Biting Fingernails
While watching the Olympics this past week, it occurred to me that if worry were an Olympic event, I would definitely be a contender. In fact, I would expect to win a medal. After all, I learned from a gold-medal worrier, my mother. I was also recently struck by an article saying that biting your fingernails is a sign of anxiety. No surprise there. I’ve been biting my fingernails all of my life, at least as far as I can remember, since I stopped sucking my thumb when I entered Kindergarten. Which led me to reflect on sucking thumbs and biting fingernails.
In-Utero Anxiety
Is it possible to have anxiety while still in the womb? I mean, here you are floating around in this sac of fluid, not a care in the world. What could cause anxiety? In my case, there was my mom’s surgery to remove her appendix. All I know is that mom told me the doctor had been able to see me while doing the surgery.
And then there was the story of the tornado while Mom was delivering me. Sirens blaring, lights flashing, I came into the world. Storms don’t bother me, usually. I enjoy watching the wind blow the treetops, rain pummel the streets and roofs, and lightning crackle in the distance, or not so far distance, while a chorus of thunder echoes around me. I attribute this to my birth.
But was it like that? Did I come into this world relishing the sounds of the storms around me? I question this.
Knowing my mom, it’s highly unlikely that she took either of these incidents in her stride. My mom was an infamous worrier. If she wasn’t worried about something, she looked for something, anything, to worry about. I find it hard to think my mom was calm when presented with these circumstances. So, was this the origin of my anxiety, grasping onto my mom’s worry even in-utero? Seems possible.
On Sucking Thumbs and Biting Fingernails
I do know that I sucked my thumb until I entered kindergarten. In fact, I may have come out of the womb with my thumb in my mouth. If not, I’m sure I found it quickly thereafter. I may have even sucked my thumb in-utero as others have done.
All efforts to get me to stop sucking my thumb failed, even my dad’s attempt at telling me the reason why he didn’t have a thumb was because he sucked it off. Even then my young mind didn’t fall for this. My dad had lost his thumb while a teenager in Traverse City swimming around the railroad docks. He reached his hand over the track just as a cart went hurtling down the rail, severing his thumb.
His thumb, or lack thereof, was what kept him in the US while in the Marines during the Korean War, a happy circumstance that kept him safe and then provided him with the means to go to college at Michigan State University. He married my mom, and they moved into the Quonset huts that were provided for married students back then. And then along came my brother Tom one year after their marriage, followed by my brother Don a year after that.
I’m not sure how I did it, stopped thumb sucking. I guess it was the fear of being made fun of by the other students. I just know that I stopped. When the nail-biting began, I don’t know. I’ve tried to stop this habit, only to find that when I manage to not bite my fingernails, I find myself picking at them.
Perhaps I’m taking the wrong course of action here. Perhaps what I need to do is focus on the anxiety that underlies the nail biting.
Anxiety Spores
My husband and I have recently been dealing with spores from artillery fungus that dot the siding of our house. Despite using the power washer and a scrub brush, they stubbornly hang on. And if we do get one spore loose, it quickly reattaches to another part of the siding if we don’t wipe it away quickly enough. The longer they remain on our siding, the harder it will be to get them off. Just think of all of the years I’ve had anxiety spores clinging to my soul!
As someone who has spent time in counseling and spiritual direction and provides these for others, I like to think I’ve pretty much dealt with my own issues. I have spent numerous hours reflecting on my tendencies to overthink, over-analysis, worry and ruminate about anything and everything. After all, I learned about worry from the master, my mother, the gold medal winner for worry.
However, I am much better than I was. So, I was frustrated by being exposed for what I was by my hands – a worry addict.
Spiritual Spores
There are still anxiety spores clinging to my spirit that I haven’t been able to remove. I continue to worry and experience anxiety. It is such a part of my life that I can’t imagine a life without it. Wouldn’t it be scary, even dangerous without the safeguards that anxiety and worry provide? My fears cause me to be cautious and not walk blindly into unsafe situations.
As I reflect on sucking thumbs and biting fingernails, I wonder – a life free of thumb sucking, fingernail biting, and worry. Imagine that.
I can’t.
My motto: If it can be worried about, it must be worried about.
Now what about that gold medal?
What about you? Is there some area you could win a gold medal in? I’d love to hear from you.
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