God is a difficult word for me. It’s a difficult concept to think about – and by difficult I mean that my body typically physically locks up when someone mentions it. Even writing about it right now, I want to open a new tab in my browser, distract myself, and/or walk [run] away.

And, come to think of it, that’s how I often feel when writing. I’m physically squirming.

So, when Chance says that I must “connect to God and help others connect to God” I get squeamish. I don’t want to listen. (Of course, Chance pointed out that he wasn’t necessarily referring to the Judeo-Christian God of my youth.)

But what does it mean? If, as Chance and other say, anxiety is a signal, then what is the message that my body and brain are (so far) unconsciously trying to convey to me?

There are ways in which I can intellectualize, rationalize, and therapize the topic: I grew up very Catholic, so maybe it’s the cliche confessional indoctrination re-emerging. Maybe it’s part of the lessons I learned during a traumatic childhood that taught me to simultaneously seek out shame and external affirmation. (A hell of a bind, huh?) Maybe it’s the years of (over)education, in which I learned to stray from the spiritual, that is dominating my reaction.

Or, perhaps, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of the gravity and promise of doing what Chance has suggested: Connect to GOD, connect to the all-pervasive love and affection and unrelenting acceptance within me and all around me, and see how life is like after that. Maybe I’m just afraid to let go of the shame, of the deeply-ingrained negative beliefs (“I’m not capable of loving, myself or others” among them), and recognize my gifts – like my writing and my love for myself and others.

Maybe I’m just afraid to be who I really am underneath so many of the limiting, seemingly safe and entrenched beliefs. Maybe I’m just afraid to submit to the love within me and around me.

Maybe I’m afraid that it’s easier than I think.