35 Days Later: Anxiety's Wake

Photo by Andrew Amistad on Unsplash
The good news first: my new year's resolution of making mistakes is going quite well already this year.

The bad news?

Anxiety leaves a scar.
35 days in, and the old aches and pains of being a human are finally coming back to me. 

Anxiety is a weed in your mind; it grows easily, wherever it can find a little bit of soil. RTT pulled out the plants overgrowing my cortex, but insecurity runs deep in my veins. And anxiety loves nothing more than insecurity.

It has been so helpful to see clearly for the first time in years. To feel clearly between what is my overthinking and insecurity vs. what is relevant to the current issue. But I made the mistake of thinking my life would be peacefully zen for its duration. I was wrong.

Now, the real work begins. Weeds you can see easily, they're above the ground and their roots are connected below. But imagine trying to take apart the soil and pick every single grain of seeds out. You'll be in the garden for an eternity.

In my last entry on RTT, I talked about planting new ideas in anxiety's place. I asked for motivation. And it's a heavy ask. 

I'm not sure what I expected it to feel like. Maybe I expected some kind of natural.. Adderall effect or cocaine-fueled mania. Or maybe I expected a clearing of the fog with a direct Google map navigator pointing out all of the pitfalls and cutting me around the corners of emotional hazards toward my newfound goals. 

Instead I am left stark naked to myself, facing an open road with two paths. 
Photo by Jens Lelie on Unsplash
On one side is the path of least resistance, of going the way I've always gone. Of following the written instructions of how to complete the video game level, of where to find all the hidden gems. Reading the answer key in the back of the textbook to work at my problems backwards.

On the other? Uncharted wilderness and a toolbox with only one magical object: shame.

I watched two videos today, both of Brene Brown's TED talks on shame and vulnerability. (I'll post them at the bottom, just in case you want to see them too.)

Her message was very clear: in order to find my joy, my creativity, my spark - I have to face my shame. I am quite vulnerable in this blog. It was one of the first things that I wanted to convey in my writing, because so many people have gifted me with their vulnerability and I wanted to give that gift back to the world. And I believe that if I show people that it's possible to be strong and vulnerable that more people will try it and believe it themselves. Vulnerability is uncomfortable, terrifying at times. In a world of 'big data', one that's always trying to get to the consumers' thoughts and desires, it can be hard to open up publicly to a medium that will always remember, always know, and fully capable of being armed with all of your shame.

I know that my writing has been all over the place, and I've gone from an educational focus to a personal storytelling, from humor to dramatic. I'm trying to find my way and I really thank you for reading because I know it's not always easy to follow the wandering of someone who is lost.

Brene Brown says that shame grows exponentially in secrecy, silence, and judgement. But with empathy, it cannot survive.

I want to give that empathy to the world, I want people to know that we are out here feeling the same things that you are feeling. I want people to know that the work is hard, but it is worth it.

Before I do that for others, I have to do that for myself.

So, I guess without too much agenda my first action plan will be: make a "shame list." Basically finishing the sentence, "I am not good enough because..." I realize that's kind of difficult to do. So to break that large painful life question down, here is what I'll be doing and check back with you next week:

1) Note any areas of discomfort, repeated irritations.
2) Look over past issues and connect them to values.
3) Talk to 2 close friends about what they know about me.

I'm not gonna promise you that I'll share my list, but I will share my process.
Maybe this is the way through the woods.




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