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Writer's pictureeschaden

Anxiety...

I have such a weird relationship with anxiety.  It is something I feel a great deal but completely lack the ability to allow it manifestation in my life.  Like right now, I am anxious about a few things:


My son and his tenuous grasp on sobriety and adulting

My daughter and what she is really up to...I am not really sure

A loved one’s drinking and inability to stop

Work and all that it demands of me

Getting everything done so I can leave on vacation next week

My parents falling ill while I am gone


When I was newly sober, when it came down to doing my inventory, I happily with almost a gleefulness wrote down my resentments, I mean I had a million of them and was happy to finally have some place to put them down in the hopes of ridding myself of them, once and for all.  I mean that didn’t happen, I still have resentments...but they are fewer and manageable, most of the time anyway.  I mean, I know what to do about them, I just don’t always do it...


But fear was something I couldn’t admit I had.  The ego deflating and leveling it took to see that I was actually afraid of everything was harder and much more slow going...


And so it would appear with anxiety...


I seem to refuse to admit I have it.  And that has been my life long pattern of dealing with it. Just do not admit you have any, and push forward with fucking vigor.  And a very fast paced gait, like I could actually out run a feeling...


But here I am this morning, not too anxious because I didn’t wake up at 2 am which is the best and apparently only time anxiety can overtake me...when I am sound asleep.  Then my mind wakes me up and with a very rude nudge, says “fuck the sleeping, we have ruminating to do about all this shit going on in your life that you are denying is bothering you...”  Apparently I can avoid and evade it except in the wee hours of morning, that is where all my truths are told.  And examined.  And admitted.


And I know that anxiety is just another fancy word for fear.  And fear is the basis for living really.  If we weren’t fundamentally afraid, then we would take stupid chances which would invariably shorten our time here on earth.  So fear is a good thing, at least of somethings, some times.


So here I am, not too overwhelmed with anxiety but I can see my ability to cope and deal is marginalized right now.  I do not have my normal reserves.  I am tired, working too hard and much and not enough sleep.  These are the things that undermine my emotional sobriety.  These are the things that knock my stable footing, and cause me to falter.


So I can really do nothing to save either of my kids.  They have their paths, they are very aware of solutions, it is just that neither of them have enough life experience to have any kind of wisdom about their current issues.  They are young and think the rules don’t apply to them and they will live forever.  I know otherwise, but I remember, no one could have told me this truth  in a way I would have listened.  I got lucky to make it through, hopefully, please God, let them persevere too.


Work.  I have to stop taking on other people’s problems.  It makes me ineffective and inefficient.  There is just so much going on and emotions are the bane of my everyday work life.  It is like I am in some sort of gigantic snowball fight in Central Park.  There are all these factions just lobbing shit at each other all day, every day, all day...and I am supposed to be the bringer of truces and peace.  And sometimes, instead, they start lobbing their icy masses at me...it isn’t fun, and while not completely unexpected, it always and forever catches me off guard. And I am not supposed to be consumed by the fray...so I have no snowball reserves and have to get amunition to defend myself on the fly...which only makes me more tired.


I will get it all done.  I will make my way off and on vacation.  I already set up my out of office notification for next week, that is how excited I am to get the fuck out of here.  


My loved one who is drinking.  There is absolutely nothing I can do about that.  I just have to understand that this is just how it goes when you love an alcoholic.  They are not rational, but very, very sick no matter how well you want them to be or how much you wish it were different.  There is literally nothing I can do except to love, from a safe distance and pray that they too find a path forward through all the self inflicted destruction.  


Human beings are such a weird mass of incongruities...they seek to survive only so they can destroy themselves.  I mean, I get it, I relate.  Me too.  But shit it is so dumb when you really look at it...we survive tragedy and trauma and then do ourselves in because of it...why???  This seems so completely stupid to me right now, and yet, I know there about three or four maladaptive things I am doing right now that have same exact effect...like I work so hard to build myself up, only to tear myself down on some other front that only I can see.  Completely counterproductive and pain invoking.


I am not sure why packing creates so much anxiety in me.  It is like I become hyper vigilant to ensure that I have thought of every possible contingency on earth and I have the answer for it in my suitcase.  This is also dumb and counterproductive.  I am not leaving to go on some remote trek where provisions and supplies will be unavailable.  There are so very many things I can live without...but the older I get the more my comfort zone seems to demand and I do not want to be caught short...and that creates anticipatory anxiety for not having what I need, which is really not it at all, it is more a fear of not having what I want, of being able to create a zone of safety and security with myself, for myself while I am traveling so I perseverate...and stew and the anxiety grows.


My parents.  This is an every growing reality in my life.  I think about their demise and health and ability to enjoy their lives every single day. Like every single morning, I spend time reflecting on when it will change for them, for me, for us.  There is nothing I can do about anyone’s demise...nothing at all.  I mean, sure, there are things I could do to make it worse, and a few things I can do to make it better...but in reality, I am just not able to change old age, sickness or death.  They come for us all and there is really nothing we can do about it other than to see that they are the inescapable realities of living.


I am tired.  And I really want and need to get away from it all.  And that is perhaps the greatest anxiety producer of all.  I am terrified that something is going to come and stop my plans.  Something is going to happen with my job, my kids, my parents, my bank account that is going to prevent me from going.  It actually makes my heart race faster just typing that...it is my underlying fear.


And I have learned that to some degree the best way to dispel anxiety is to claim it.  It is possible that I will not be able to go, something could happen that would prevent me from leaving...and that will be ok.  I don’t want that to happen, but if it does, it will be fine.  I will survive, at least I hope that is the plan, I will live to see another day and all my plans will get readjusted. And while there will be disappointment and some hardship, I will get beyond it.


And right there I just discovered what is at the bottom of all of this for me...the fear of disappointment.  I hate it.  I do not want to feel it so the anticipatory fear of not being able to go for some reason or another is what is currently kicking my ass.  It will be fine. I am fine and will be fine whether I go or stay.  My plan is to go and most likely that will be the result.  But if, for some reason, I am delayed or thwarted or prevented, that is also happening as it should.


It is moments like this where I am reminded, painfully actually, that I am not ultimately in charge of anything...except my attitude.  That I can control...sometimes anyway, other times I am pretty poor at maintaining that either.


So I take a deep breath in and realize that I am human and subject to anxiety and fear and dread and disappointment.  I cannot avoid any of them, at least not all the time.  And as usual, it is my attempt to avoid them that makes me miserable.  And that misery is here even though the things I am afraid of, anxious about or worried about haven’t even happened yet...and likely will not happen.  It is gonna be fine...and if it isn’t I will deal with that then.


For me, anxiety prevails and reigns most supreme when I am in denial about having it.  That is when I am most fucked.  When I am pretending or insisting that I am not suffering.  So I decided not to play that game today.  I am anxious about a great number of things...and my fear of disappointment is attempting to spiral upwards like a tornado in my life...and sometimes, I just can’t avoid the funnel scooping me up and landing me somewhere else that I would rather not be...


But at least today, I am capable of admitting I fear that and I do not want to have the experience...while allowing for the fact that all I wish to keep away may land, and all that I fear may in fact, completely leave me untouched and without reprisal.    I mean, the best indicator of the future, is the past.  And so far, the past has given me great, repeating and varied opportunities to survive, thrive and overcome.  And so it shall be with this.


Wow, I am already feeling so much better, the anxiety leaving me and moving away, at least for now.  And as I write this, I find myself so fucking tired. Like all this shit roiling beneath my surface, takes its toll.  And while I know this, it still comes as a shock to me, quite often.  Life has consequences physically, emotionally and spiritually...and there is nothing I can ever do to stop life from being lifey.


And no amount of denial or anxiety is going to change the ultimate truth of living...it is uncertain...always.


Again.


Still.




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