“I hate feeling anxious. Can I have some of your happy medicine,” I asked a friend today.
“Why are you anxious?” he replied.
I didn’t know why. Spanish class? Freelance project? Soccer starting? My upcoming trip? Committing to the gym? Returning to boot camp? Carlos? A new magazine I might write for? My lack of friends in the city? A guy telling me he just wants to be friends (even though I felt the same way)?
What I really wanted to do was go shopping for a new outfit, go for frozen yogurt and go home to watch TV all night. But I told my friend I was going to the gym for a run before Spanish class.
My run felt great. I was focused and strong. But when I got off the treadmill, the anxiety came back when I read two emails. One about the soccer team rosters. The other was my total due to the gym. Then I came home and Carlos greeted me at the door. I felt guilty. I don’t feel like I’ve been giving him the time he deserves. Plus, I’m leaving him soon for a week.
So what’s giving me anxiety? Not feeling good enough. I trying to make up for a lack of one thing with something else. Like, I’m not in my dream job, so I’m going to work out a ton instead. I can’t afford to travel, so I’m going to learn Spanish instead. I’m not in a relationship, so I’m going to write for magazines instead. The truth is, I’m not where I want to be. And that’s stressing me out.
I should know better. I’m a therapy graduate. I learned to control my anxiety there. Hell, I work for the therapist now. I really should know better!
I’m off to play with Carlos and review my Spanish verbs before class.
I’m a journalist, content strategist, doting auntie, amateur bobsledder, fitness enthusiast, and wannabe health nut (who loves chocolate and pizza too much to fully commit). I don't want you to think my life is perfect. It's not.