Anxiety

Am I the embodiment of fears and insecurities? Are my actions and inactions solely based on beliefs rooted in my olden days?

There are things that can make my everyday quite chaotic, but are just hardwired within the confines of my psyche and to my grave they will follow...

The endless lists and reminders spread across rooms and rooms because what if I forget to water that one plant that needs way too much liquid and it dies a slow, painful death and then people inquire about my weekend and I have to confess to whoever wants to hear it that I am a murderer?

The mishandling of priorities. Late for work again and there I was, bare feet in the bathtub cleaning up those window screens. "Hey boss, sorry I'm late, I got distracted. I'll be out the door in a few minutes," hitting send with my left thumb while my right hand is meticulously whitening the dining room's baseboards with a fresh coat of paint. I'm technically working, right?

The tendency to complexify simple tasks. But why add it to the list when you could do it now? Because making a phone call while brushing your teeth is just not efficient Andie.

The complicated relationship with stagnancy. Forever will my limbs be restless and sitting still often feels uncomfortable (who am I kidding, it feels horrible)–Chaira Sutra : 137 positions will be available soon.

This is just how my brain is programmed. There is nothing wrong with me, I am not troubled, this is just who I am and how I function. And I accept that. Most of the time. Okay fine, I'm still working on it.

When social anxiety rules your life, you learn to embrace it.

The once daunting task of entering a busy shop and having to make my presence known when all the wounds wanted my being to seep through the floor cracks, then forgetting how to speak when face-to-face with an unenthused barista (or worse, a cute one)... has become an almost natural act with only a few misplaced words and a hint of faltering voice.

A few minutes of dispute between anxiety and desire for connectedness, for the latter to finally win. I find myself walking up to the bar and taking a seat right next to a stranger (because what is there to lose besides a few minutes of intense awkwardness and a few hours of dissecting every word I said?), curious to hear the story of their solo self in the midst of clustered people.

When perfectionism rules your life, you unlearn it and embrace authenticity.

Decades of scrutinizing my bones, flesh and skin. Decades of stacking up flaws, heaps and deficiencies by comparing with other physiques. Decades of demeaning self-talk. Decades of body dysmorphia and gender dysphoria are no joke. And just recently was I able to appreciate my physical host and admire the incredible strength and capabilities of our somatic selves.

The superego, assessing the unworthiness of my creative skills meant years of work not pushed forward into the public eye. And now there they were, parts of my mind scattered onto a piece of wood, hung on the wall of a busy brewery. A cheers in, and I am stepping into the unknown, making my way toward a mother and her grown-up kid, inviting them to share their thoughts on the creations of local artists.

A good chunk of my belief system has become irrelevant, yet it still lingers.

Sometimes my inner critic takes over ; it criticizes, judges, belittles me and every now and then I believe it. I still dread some public appearances. I still sabotage relationships and opportunities. I am still afraid of change and stepping out of my comfort zone. But now I trust that it does not define me.

I doubt there is a way around it all ;

it might just be the human experience.

And I am leaning into it.