anx*i*e*ty

anx*i*e*ty (noun), "desire to do something, typically accompanied by unease."

That is actually not the primary definition of anxiety, but it is the one that lives with me. Remember when I thought I could smell Ativan? Yeah, that still happens. I am meeting people -- actually meeting and getting to know them as people. The common thread in every person I meet is still anxiety of some kind. It even got to the point where a friend who treats anxiety disorders has offered to form a "Survivor"-type therapy group of the men I have met. The man who makes the most progress in the group gets to date me.

This "suggestion" grew from me talking about a date with yet another man who was broadcasting anxiety.  As our conversation continued, though, I realized that I kind of want the anxiety.  I mean, I get anxious about stuff, so that's something to have in common.  And, really, people who never have any anxiety about anything are kind of ---- well ---- boring.

bor*ing (adjective), "not interesting, tedious."

I am in a space where I am actively exploring and nurturing my creative self.  A certain low level of anxiety fuels this, and I find that people without even the smallest levels of anxiety are often not understanding of this drive to be creative.  Of course, high anxiety also kills creativity, so it is a continual balance.  I need my anxiety to be a passenger in the boat with me, and I really need a partner to bring their anxiety along too.  Otherwise, we just end up with an unbalanced boat.

Our anxieties are necessary to allow us to build something new -- a work of art, a structure, a relationship -- anything.  So, I am embracing my anxious passenger as part of the whole flawed tapestry.

Take us out, Kierkegaard:

Defined by Loss

In general, I try to avoid New Year's resolutions. Every day should be an opportunity to begin again, and I just don't like the pressure of the January 1 festival of resolution announcements.  I recently returned from my self-directed retreat, though, and during that time one resolve emerged clear and strong.  Not because of the new year, but because it is time, and I am ready.

Resolved: I will no longer define myself by what I have lost.

As I was walking in the woods last week, reflecting on the last year and planning the year to come, I realized that much of what I have done in the past year I am seeing and interpreting through the lens of what I no longer have or am.  This does not mean the past year was sad -- quite the opposite.  Most of what I have done brought me joy, growth, and fulfillment.  There is a reason why people I haven't seen in a while are all telling me that I look happy and confident -- because I am.

Yet I still define those things by what I am not.  I could travel when and where I want because there is no other person to include in the plans.  I could accept any work that interested me and spend as much time as I want in dance classes because I don't have to think about being home for anyone.  I can take risks because I had already lost the one thing I used to think was unloseable, and I emerged just fine.

While there is strength in measuring my year against all that came before it, I now realize that this is keeping me tethered to a person I have outgrown.  No, not my Ex.  I mean my former self.  That woman who never knew how fun it could be to just dance like an idiot in the street to Sixteen Candles, and who never thought to go free range with her career.  That woman was lovely -- compassionate, kind and even joyful at times.  But that woman lived by anxiety.

So now, even though the anxiety is still a passenger (more about that in a future post), it does not drive.  All that I do this year will not be because of or in reference to what I have lost.  Resolved.  I believe I can keep this one.