I have had a lifelong struggle with things making me anxious, things "stressing me out." Even after I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder, I had no clue what "anxiety" was -- and it stressed me out! After many years, I think I have a better handle on the definition of it.
Quite simply: anxiety is anything that makes me uncomfortable, uneasy, or nervous. It's what "stresses me out."
I wondered for a long time if having an anxiety order made me high strung. According to Merriam-Webster, I am highly strung. And that stresses me out.
I do think I have my quirks, my idiosyncrasies, things that make me me. I even have things for which I feel guilty and I should not. I don't think it's fair for me to feel that my quirks and idiosyncrasies make me weird.
Of course, that would mean weird would have to have a negative connotation, and in my world it does not. Weird means one is courageous enough to not conform to societal expectations and be true to one's desires and interests. It means one is bold enough to say, "I don't like it like that; I like it like THIS." Yes, weird takes courage. Weird can be lonely.
So what weird things do I do in the name of anxiety?
I drive in the middle lane to avoid cars to avoid T-Bone wrecks (had a car killed in one in 2006).
I drive as close to a curb or line as I can get without driving off the road to avoid getting sideswiped (I did get sideswiped, so that's legitimate).
I slow down if someone is following me too close (rear ended by a texter, so that too is legitimate).
I won't turn unless I can see that is absolutely clear (totaled a car that way).
I hesitate at certain intersections when I expect that the driver who can't read the lines on the road will cut me off or hit me (I've seen it happen, but not to me).
If I even suspect you're texting, I slow way down -- see sideswiping, see rear ended by a texter.
That's not even half of them while I am driving!
I'll even share what I'm driven to do in the sake of making said things stop.
Driven, stop -- ha ha.
Admittedly, all the angst I endure while driving is all for love of Bluebelle, my 2014 Honda CR-V. I love my CR-V, and after Pete, my 2006 Honda CR-V, was killed and I had to grieve him for years after that, thanks to the annual medical evaluations from the DMV that drove me to threaten legal action if they did not remove me from the list.
Finally, it came to me. The other drivers on the road stress me out the most. There's no telling if that person next to you has forgotten the rules and made up his or her own rules or if his or her entitlement schema ("I do what I want and I don't do what I don't want and you should or should not follow suit accordingly without me having to tell you").
Quite simply: anxiety is anything that makes me uncomfortable, uneasy, or nervous. It's what "stresses me out."
I wondered for a long time if having an anxiety order made me high strung. According to Merriam-Webster, I am highly strung. And that stresses me out.
I do think I have my quirks, my idiosyncrasies, things that make me me. I even have things for which I feel guilty and I should not. I don't think it's fair for me to feel that my quirks and idiosyncrasies make me weird.
Of course, that would mean weird would have to have a negative connotation, and in my world it does not. Weird means one is courageous enough to not conform to societal expectations and be true to one's desires and interests. It means one is bold enough to say, "I don't like it like that; I like it like THIS." Yes, weird takes courage. Weird can be lonely.
So what weird things do I do in the name of anxiety?
I drive in the middle lane to avoid cars to avoid T-Bone wrecks (had a car killed in one in 2006).
I drive as close to a curb or line as I can get without driving off the road to avoid getting sideswiped (I did get sideswiped, so that's legitimate).
I slow down if someone is following me too close (rear ended by a texter, so that too is legitimate).
I won't turn unless I can see that is absolutely clear (totaled a car that way).
I hesitate at certain intersections when I expect that the driver who can't read the lines on the road will cut me off or hit me (I've seen it happen, but not to me).
If I even suspect you're texting, I slow way down -- see sideswiping, see rear ended by a texter.
That's not even half of them while I am driving!
I'll even share what I'm driven to do in the sake of making said things stop.
Driven, stop -- ha ha.
Admittedly, all the angst I endure while driving is all for love of Bluebelle, my 2014 Honda CR-V. I love my CR-V, and after Pete, my 2006 Honda CR-V, was killed and I had to grieve him for years after that, thanks to the annual medical evaluations from the DMV that drove me to threaten legal action if they did not remove me from the list.
Finally, it came to me. The other drivers on the road stress me out the most. There's no telling if that person next to you has forgotten the rules and made up his or her own rules or if his or her entitlement schema ("I do what I want and I don't do what I don't want and you should or should not follow suit accordingly without me having to tell you").
Comments
Post a Comment