Is This Anxiety or Is This Just Being An Adult?

I’ve been playing this fun new game lately.

Fun in the same way that scheduling a Pap smear the day after my birthday and realizing that Ann Coulter and I go to the same OBGYN is fun.

(Pour one out for the person that had to sweep up the exam room when she was done)

The game is called, “Is This Anxiety Or Is This Just Being An Adult?”

And it always ends the same way - with you throwing up your hands and saying, “You know what? I don’t know. I have no fucking idea.”

Lately, I’ve been playing this game a lot.

Which explains why it’s 4:54am and I’m tapping away on the Google Keep app while in the bathroom.

I’m scared.

Life right now is like a horror movie where this unseen force is lurking somewhere in the frame and you’ve just gotta hope you’ll make it to the end credits.

Our best bet with this, as all things, is that we’ve gotta Jamie-Lee Curtis this shit.

She always makes it to the end credits.

I keep reminding myself that it’s OK to be scared because everyone is scared.

This is unprecedented and no-one knows what the play is here other than wash your hands and stay your ass at home.

I keep reminding myself that if I’m really honest, I’m actually scared of everything.

I’m scared of violent crime, heights, drowning and for years, I was terrified of big dogs.

So, I listen to True Crime podcasts.

I went zip lining in Colorado and fed dog biscuits to fish at Coki Beach in St. Thomas, USVI.

Oh and have you met Indiana Bones? My 100lbs GSD/Great Dane/Mastiff mix who is currently barking at all the falling leaves “attacking” our house.

I’ve worked hard to get over these fears because the thought of missing out on life seems far worse than being scared for a finite amount of time.

I credit a lot of this to my husband. When we were zip lining in Colorado, I mentioned that I was scared and asked if he was too. His response?

“Scared? Of this heavily insured white people activity? No. I’m not scared.”

When you’re scared, you lean on the people who make you feel brave. Who talk you through it or hell, at least make you laugh so you can take your mind off it.

And I keep reminding myself that courage is born of fear. Courage is what happens when you’re scared but you say fuck it and do it anyway.

Did you get out of bed this morning despite the fact that you have no idea what fresh hell this day will bring? Yeah. That’s brave.

Did you feed the dog, eat breakfast, put on fresh clothes? Some days, that’s really hard to do. Your bed is safe and cozy and the world is...decidedly not.

Did you go to work? Holy shit, dude. You’re operating on goddamn Han Solo levels right now.

This is weird, scary and hard. And we’ve got to be kind to ourselves. Kinder than we typically are.

If it helps you, participate in the Instagram-friendly modes of self-care like baking bread, gardening and lighting candles before meditating but think back to a time in your life when things were a little easier. A little less anxious and harried. That’s been helping me.

I’ve been watching old pro-wrestling clips on YouTube and we bought a Nintendo Switch. I downloaded the new Zelda which is great despite the fact that I die like, every five minutes.

These things reminds me of being eight when my biggest concern was how to get out of eating fenugreek potato curry - fenugreek is a disgusting bitter weed which Indian mothers force upon their children. People say it smells like maple syrup and those people are lying liars. It tastes like punishment and it is awful.

As per usual, I find solace in Bukowski. Particularly a few lines from his poem Lost:

those who escape hell
however
never talk about
it
and nothing much
bothers them
after
that.

Here’s to making it through.

Together.

Now, go wash your damn hands.