How To Stop Dreading Tough Times at Work

Tough times happen. Depending on our individual temperament, these can cause a fair amount of dread - either when we see them coming, or when we imagine this or that tough time on the horizon. 

We can frequently spot a tough time before it hits. We listed a number of examples of tough times in our last post. Each can be anticipated to some degree. We see them coming and that feeling of dread can hit us as we're watching them unfold.

Before we continue, let's recall: Dread is a step up from anxiety. Dread contains an element of fear. I'm not sure there's a clear line between the two, but what we'll call "regular" anxiety isn't as bad as outright dread. Anxiety ranges from annoying to an outright gnawing feeling that can run us down. Dread kind of makes us want to just cut and run - to where, who knows?

With that in mind, a relatively tiny personal experience: CE credits due for one of my professional licenses. I once used to dread this as the deadline for submitting proof of study approached. Why? Because I didn't have easy access to the required courses. At the time you had to either attend generally boring, unhelpful live sessions covering some topic or topics that - for me - lent nothing to my professional capabilities. Your other choice was arranging to take a comprehensive exam at some remote location, which required studying the material, traveling to the location, and sitting for 3 hours or so in generally uncomfortable surroundings.

All that changed with the Covid Mess. Now you can do these things online. It made a difference. While I still have a mild case of "dreads" as the 2-year deadline approaches, the simplicity of the online process has muted what used to really bug me. That's a mild example. A bit stiffer: annual filing of our compliance report to our financial regulator. All in all, not too bad.

Lots of folks dread going to work on Monday - a feeling that hits them on Sunday night, especially if the weekend was particularly restful or enjoyable.

Last time we addressed situations where we dread something that's not actually happening or not even close to happening. Such dread springs from an overly active imagination. The object of our dread may not be "real" but the dread sure is.  

So whether the reasons for dread are real or imagined, there's no mistaking the actual feeling of dread itself. And we suggested a way to deal with this last time: Address the feelings right away before they mushroom and take on a life of their own. That means first recognize the feeling. Then do your best to use your reason to dig into why you feel as you do. Many times that will lead to an easing or elimination of the dread. 

If that doesn't do it, we've got something that might help. 

Before we get to that, don't forget to bring God into the picture. Depending on its degree, dread can be a source of suffering - or at least extreme discomfort. Such things can and should be offered up. God appreciates such offerings. Even more, I think He would appreciate it if we express our trust in Him, that His Grace will help us to manage our dread in a way that allows us to get on with our work as we ought.

It's always important to bring God into the picture. Dread is no exception.

But there's a simple way that most of us can cut dread off at the knees. Here's one. It's from Father William Doyle (our dear Father Willie). He's writing about what can only be described as a harrowing situation in the trenches of World War I where he served (and eventually was killed) as an army chaplain. There's a lot of detail. If we read this and compare to whatever we might be dreading, it's likely there's no comparison. Maybe that helps our dread to retreat, at least a bit.

I had been along the front line as usual to give the men a General Absolution which they are almost as anxious to receive for the comfort it will be for their friends at home, should they fall, as for themselves. I was coming down to the advanced dressing station, when I learned that a small party had ‘gone over the top’ on our right, though I had been told the raid was only from the left. When I got to the spot I found they had all gone and were lying well out in No Man’s Land. It was a case of Mahomet and the mountain once more. The poor ‘mountain’ could not come back, though they were just longing to, but the prophet could go out, could he not? So Mahomet rolled over the top of the sandbags into a friendly shell hole, and started to crawl on his hands and knees and stomach towards the German trenches. Mahomet, being only a prophet, was allowed to use bad language, of which privilege he availed himself, so report goes, to the full, for the ground was covered with bits of broken barbed wire, shell splinters, nettles, etc., etc., and the poor prophet on his penitential pilgrimage left behind him much honest sweat and not a few drops of blood.

That was a strange scene! A group of men lying on their faces, waiting for certain death to come to some of them, whispering a fervent act of contrition, and God’s priest, feeling mighty uncomfortable and wishing he were safely in bed a thousand miles away, raising his hand in Absolution over the prostrate figures. One boy, some little distance off, thinking the Absolution had not reached him, knelt bolt upright, and made an act of contrition you could have heard in Berlin, nearly giving the whole show away and drawing the enemy’s fire.

There was really little danger, as shell holes were plentiful, but not a little consolation when I buried the dead next day to think that none of them had died without Absolution. I was more afraid getting back into our own trenches; for sentries, seeing a man coming from the direction of No Man’s Land, do not bother much about asking questions and object to nocturnal visitors.