The Tower of Anxiety

The Tower of Anxiety

         His eyes are watering from staring so profoundly, he is out of oxygen due to the inability to focus on his breathing. He wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, buying time until he must make his next move. A tingling feeling starts in his toes and begins to work its way up through his entire body. With his tongue protruding out of the side of his mouth, toes curled, and breath held once again, he almost dared to make the move. It all came down to this moment; he had gotten so far, how could he accept failure if it were to occur? It was impossible, he couldn't fathom it; yet failure is the only thought that entered his mind when he even picked up a card. The enormous, yet not even two foot tall card tower, taunted him. What can a boy do, leave the project unfinished?

         The concentration on his face is prevalent, as he very carefully begins to raise his arms with the perfect coordination and gentleness that was necessary in order to place the last pair of cards on the tower. He cautiously lowers the cards down, holding on to the top of them ever so gracefully, but yet with an iron grasp that was infallible. With his hands shaking tremendously, he couldn't let go; how could he? Was there enough grip to keep the cards up on their own without his wobbly hands to support them? The entire concoction rests in this moment, this very moment, in which he must let go in order to complete the creation. This pivotal moment was decided, by these shaking hands! How could he trust them? The intense feeling continued to build up, causing his hands to shake more, as the impossible yet executable goal nears closer to being recognized. The hands were now trembling; he must not wait any longer!

         As he releases his grip on his life's work, that had only taken a few minutes to produce, he watches as the cards slowly slip down onto the rest of the creation. The boy stares, wide eyed and filled with terror as his world collapses onto itself. He can hardly contain his emotions as he lets out a shriek that fills the room with agony. He flings himself onto the last remains of his creation, destroying the foundation of the tower. It was not worth keeping, as picking up the rest of the cards that lay upon the foundation could have caused it to destroy itself, which would have enraged the boy. This feeling of rage would have permeated through his entire body until not even tears could do him justice.
         
         But wait, the foundation could have possibly been preserved! If only he would have been diligent enough to subdue his rage, and not submit to the initial anger. The foundation, although easy to create, took time and was the largest part of the tower. How could he start again, knowing that if he fails in recreating the foundation, or even worse, creating a new foundation that was even the slightest bit flawed, would result in extreme resentment toward the new tower. After all, he could have possibly  finished his original one, if he would have just tried to pick up the cards.

         Now the boy lies there, in a heap of confusion, crying, plagued with, what is better known as, anxiety. He remains there, sobbing, with no hope of expressing his emotions. His mind running wild, as he can still feel the cold and grainy texture of the cards on his face. Ridiculed by his friends, they begin to taunt and make fun of him as he continues to display his feelings, the only way he knows how. They can't understand, it was not just a card tower that evoked his response, but the thought process behind its assembly and its ruin. The contradictory thoughts, that produced nothing but anger and frustration caused this tantrum. Anxiety was the demise of this tower. He could have never completed it in the first place, as his anxiety caused his shaking hands, the rush of thoughts and emotions, and his seemingly unnecessary rage. Anxiety that will be dealt with another day; but for now he must move on and put an abrupt end to his project, as it intruded on the dinner party.

         The boy must be must be punished, and put in “time out,” where he must think about what he has done and the problems he has caused. He will be forced to sit in a room by himself, instructed to think about the very things that caused his tantrum. Without anyone to help him with his problems, and no one to vent his emotions to, he must sit in isolation and wrap his mind around how big of an inconvenience he was, which will inevitably lead to further anxiety. Instead of giving him tools and insight that would be helpful in teaching him to deal with these problems and express his emotions, he must simply sit and think, essentially what he has been doing the entire time. As a matter of fact, they neglect to even care why he is crying at all, or throwing this tantrum; it is just the way he is, he is so unruly. Opposition will result in more punishment, and more punishment means more anxiety. If he had not built this stupid tower in the first place, he would not even have to be put in to timeout! Now forced to be quiet, with the sensation of rage stirring up inside him, he silently cries himself to sleep, as he can not bear the burden his thoughts have instilled in his emotions.