The anxiety wouldn’t stop, no matter what I tried. Everything I could think of to fix the anxiety just didn’t work. All I had to do was ride it out until it finally subsided by an external force – the anxiety had been caused over an inability to do something important and having to defer to others, which I know is a pride thing, but the problem is that the solution is not always that predictable.
My water bottle clanged on the floor. “Sorry a-bough-t that.” I said as I swooped up the offending bottle in a half-dozed stupor. “It’s uhh-kay.” Would life be better without these sorts of embarrassing interactions? Without these grimy grimaces, how can we know what glittery glory feels like? Perhaps it would be nicer to be free of stress, anxiety, and worries over the thises and thats of life, but sometimes that friction leads to more!
There is probably no entity that would willingly advocate for the endless ubiquitous pain of every creature in the universe. If there were, that creature would be so mauled by negative emotions, unable to dispell them, that they would thrash out in so much agony that the results would destroy everything in sight. What a twisted, terrible fate! Yet, how easy is it to fall into that trap? It just takes a few bad days…
I like to “get lost.” Particularly on my lunch breaks, if I brought my lunch, I’ll wander somewhere new to eat, then write. If not, I’ll walk anonymously into any large crowd to shed the artificial interpretations of my ego related to my perceived stresses throughout my journey of sustenance. Forgetting about myself is a useful way for me to regulate the looming sense of disaster after disaster that, if unregulated, could lead to insobriety.
It started with a humble blue one. No harm. Just a little extra sugar to get me through the day. They’re just right there, free; easy. These little candies are innocent enough to where, before I realized it, I was instinctively eating handfuls each and every shift. Oops. So much for innocence. When times are hard, stress is everywhere, I know subconsciously look for little moments of respite, positive or not. Is there a fix?
With focused discipline, you can quiet the mind enough of the rattles of stress and anxiety to do almost anything. You can subconsciously mute the noisy office or do the impossible. What that requires, however, is the occasional respite. Not a relapse or reclusion, just a quick relaxing check-in to see if everything is alright. Without that, motivation breaks, weakness seeps in, and the next time you’re tempted by something bad, you might take it.
Why do we become addicted to our work? Why do we allow our work and employers to entrench themselves so deeply into our psyches that when we’re in the shower, we give effort to our work, we complain about work to family, and we work when we sleep? Does it fill that void otherwise filled with insecurities and self-loathing? Do we yearn for the stability that comes with employment and the fruits of our labor?