It’s about anxiety. Again. And maybe it will always be about anxiety here, but I don’t believe so because it’s situational anxiety for me, with years of mellow, calm seas. Besides that, I’m a fighter. Even when I think I’m not. Even when I think I’m screwed.
I had a lightbulb series of moments when talking with a wise and helpful mentor today. I was saying that sometimes people talk about anxiety and even depression as lies in their heads. People talk about voices telling them that they’re worthless and that they can’t do anything right. For me, the anxiety goes further than that. It’s not just voices. It’s symptoms, that I believe probably stem from hidden words and voices. Maybe, hopefully, other people don’t get to that point of symptoms that I get.
So I thought about everything I feel – about Scarlet in kindergarten and Des in daycare and my Nana’s death at 100, and whatever sad, happy or existential thoughts they give me. And I thought about aging and mortality and my father’s death and money and work and photography and writing. I just pictured it all as one big, black mass. I was asked where I feel that mass and I said I feel it mostly in my chest. I was asked what that big, black mass would say to me if it could talk and I said it would say:
And what would make someone feel that way? Does it matter? What would make someone feel so powerless and so breathless at times? Could it be the death of my father at age four, because really, what more do you need? What more could you really look for in childhood details, stories and traumas. In photos and memories and overturned stones. That is enough. It’s enough.
And here is what I’m not doing. Been abused or abusing. Looking for unhappiness. Stopping my kids from happiness. Drinking, smoking, or doing drugs. Even prescription ones, although I realize that is a necessity for many and that is totally important.
Here is what I am doing. Saying no more often and setting limits. Although I confess that if it’s something that will make me money, I probably am not saying no. Sadly, that’s the way the world works. And I do great things for money. With blogging too.
And I am fighting and taking back myself, because there are many things I want to do and that I can do and I just don’t want my own voices and symptoms to try to get me to stop. So here are my words. I was totally going to write about something else today. I was actually going to go wordless. Just photos. Old photos. Catch-up photos. No words. Nothing to read here.
I need the words to come because otherwise they get choked and stuffed into my chest, throat and lungs. And I’ll feel like I can’t breathe or I can’t talk or I can’t cry or I can’t do anything if I can’t do this right here. No Wordless Wednesday for me today.