Why Anxiety?

Just now I looked in my fridge to find nothing but fancy noshes and fancy booze which led me to have the strangest “this is my life” moment I think I’ve ever experienced… Upon discovering that I didn’t really have any real food, I thought about the not so inexpensive purchases I had just made in the name of making my space feel more comfortable and I panicked. I literally panicked because I couldn’t see anything really wrong in the direction that my life appears to be going in; I’ve found my rhythm, a good routine, things I love doing and I’m not freaking out about having spent a couple hundred bucks. I feel like I should be flipping my shit right now because in the past when I wasn’t freaking out, I was missing something big and important. Sure, there are things that I’m worried about (having screwed up my taxes, sorting out bills, old family IRS debt…) but I’ve done a pretty good job of not having massive panic attacks recently so I guess I was anxious about not being anxious? The fuck… Okay brain, thanks.

So why anxiety? In the past I thought anxiety was like a convenient motivating force but now I see it as a damaging but comfortable pattern of thinking. It’s always there, looming… So it’s comfortable to lean on because it’s reliable and a constant force, although very damaging. When I was in its grasp I didn’t see how damaging it was to me and I’m sure I’ll likely forget how good it feels to live without panic and I’ll have to remind myself again because that’s how I am. Hell, the tattoo on my chest is a fucking reminder (Memento style) to not be so anxious and I STILL manage to forget. what pushed me over the edge this time was thinking about buying new bedding and thinking about how much I hated my room and wanted a change. I was nervous about spending the money because “What if something bad happens?” Then I realized that I didn’t do a lot of things for that reason and that waiting for bad things to happen means that I would be missing all of the good things that life has to offer. So I thought “Fuck that!” and promptly bought the expensive bed spread and started completely re-decorating. Which has now involved a complete re-arrange of furniture, painting, re-doing the cabinets and a purchase of throw pillows, a head board, curtains and a fucking chandelier because I fucking could. Do I regret it? Meh, not yet. Am I excited about it and energized by the idea of making my space more awesome? FUCK YES I AM!!!

If being overjoyed about my house and inspired to do a bunch of projects costs the price of a new bed spread, pillows, sheets, a headboard, some wood stain, cabinet pulls and a chandelier then I’m fine with that. Worse things have definitely happened.