I woke up a little anxious a few mornings ago. Usually waking up to stress means that I have something unresolved or it’s a money issue. I sometimes associate the anxiety about work, by default. Like I’ll literally wake up and think “Is this it? Is this my life, just doing this job thing to exist, so I can wake up to do it again?” It’s a weird question and it’s never been settled or muddied with the thought that if I could just find something I love, then I’d be ok. It’s a prevailing theory I hear from people though, not people who love their work btw. People who love their work usually say “I love my job.” They never say to me “You gotta find something you love.” In the magazine articles and in the culture of content consumption we hear that is the trick, you gotta find the thing you love. The “He was a wall street banker/now owns a dairy farm and is ecstatic about his 18 hour day; he loves what he does.” stories are less about love and more about meeting people who found a way to monetize their obsessive traits with a very niche hobby or singular interest that they excel at; more on that later.
This could all be about me waking up and realizing I wasn’t loved enough as a child. But I think that probably could have been resolved with either owning a dog or having a sibling. I was left to fend for my own when I was a kid. My parents were doing their thing and I was along for the ride; their life didn’t stop when I came around, I might have slowed them down a bit, in truth though, my mom probably didn’t crash and burn cause I was there to slow her down, unlike my duty shirking father, he died on the vine that was heroin, a speed ball to be precise.
And let me be clear, it’s not that chickenshit wake up either, the one where you’re paralyzed and don’t want to get out of bed. My anxiety has me hopping out of bed and wondering through my day, searching about for my place in the scheme of things. I don’t find the answer usually (ever) I usually just try to assign myself some duties and I look for things that might be bothering me.
I don’t really know what else to do. God has never answered my call in a literal sense and my boyhood side still holds some resentment about that. Therapy seems odd, I should pay to talk, really many would say I talk too much already. And I have just enough talk-to-myself juice that I ask myself the same questions. I sometimes think about a support group, guys in a circle, we’re not alone, coffee at night, some smoking, hugs for sure; uhm…
I am resigned to finish my ten year goals and then I think I’ll be just fine, my Poe character uneasy will tick no longer, but until then, I think I will continue to have some restless nights and uneasy mornings and maybe that’s how it should be. I never got anything but fat when I was comfortable.
Is this the new me?