It is easy for me to compare, not my life against others, but my life against my own. When I close my eyes, the ideal is right there, so close I feel like I could touch it. But as soon as I open my eyes it vanishes.
Do you ever feel older than that scared little kid on the cusp of adulthood, acutely aware you’re on your own?
Does the anxiety of living ever settle?
I’ve always thought I live with depression, and I do. I have. At various times in my life it’s been nearly debilitating. I’ve had a far more difficult time identifying the anxiety. It’s there, though. I can see it, feel it. A constant undercurrent threatening to sweep me away at even the tiniest shift.
There are plenty of professionals who say we have nothing to prove; that we are worthy and deserving simply because we exist. Still, it’s terrifying having to prove yourself. I often feel as if I don’t have a right to be here unless I do something impressive. It doesn’t have to be far-reaching or innovative or even make sense to most people, but it must be impressive. Of course, I can’t define what that means.
The San Francisco therapist kept telling me I shouldn’t be terrified of creative experimentation. “I don’t know what’s going to come out of me,” I told her. “It has to be perfect. It has to be irreproachable in every way.” “Why?” she said. “To make up for it,” I said. “To make up for the fact that it’s me.” –Suzanne Rivecca
I think depression masked my anxiety for so long that I’m only now understanding how much anxiety I generally have. Or perhaps it’s more comfortable for me to feel depressed than it is for me to admit to this unease that often gets the best of me.
Is it anxiety, imposter syndrome, self-sabotage, perfectionism? Maybe in some ways these are all the same thing.
A lack of faith in myself and the universe.
I had an appointment with a new doctor a few weeks ago. She asked me about my recent symptoms; I answered honestly. She told me she was going to run some labs to confirm but likely I have an anxiety disorder and her recommendation will be therapy. Which I have to admit made me laugh. The process never ends.
“However deep I plunge into myself, all the paths of my dreams lead into clearings of anxiety.” –Fernando Pessoa
There is no glittery solution to this. I’m still learning how to live. If I had to guess though, the solution probably looks something like this David Foster Wallace quote:
“The thing about it is that in America, we think of rebellion as this very sexy thing and that it involves action and force and looks good. My guess is that any form of rebellion that will change anything meaningfully here will be very quiet and very individual and probably not all that interesting to look at from the outside.”
The kind of rebellion I’m interested in is how to live a life I’m content with; to do something I find impressive. And it’s true that it looks so uninteresting from the outside. It looks like going for a walk, drinking water, not drinking caffeine, regulating my nervous system, limiting screen time. Or the most annoying of all because it actually works—it looks like interrupting negative thoughts with something positive, or a simple question, “What if it all works out?”
“And when the lie begins to give us pleasure, let us speak the truth in order to lie to the lie. And when it causes us anxiety, let us stop, so that suffering neither dignifies us nor brings us some kind of perverse pleasure…” –Fernando Pessoa
Love this soo much🙌🏻