To get the downer stuff out of the way: I had two pretty serious bouts of anxiety yesterday. A run and yoga helped me muscle through the first one, but by mid-afternoon when the second one came on, I was thinking, “If I have to start running twice a day, I’m going to physically disappear!” Which alerted me to the fact that running doesn’t necessarily quell anxiety either.
(I imagine that people probably wonder why I insist upon always talking about anxiety. I get that it doesn’t always make for the most lighthearted read, but I think that it’s important to share because it is a normal reaction to certain life situations. I may not like it, but it has not killed me yet. And I just don’t believe that there is any reason for me to be ashamed of an emotion that is uncomfortable. Because if I don’t resist, it actually ends up bringing some checks and balances into my life.)
During the run it came to me that I’m anxious because I feel like the “process” is “hopeless” and that it is not assisting me in my desire to crossover into a “new career path”. But freedom followed because I finally wasn’t blaming the process, but instead accepting that maybe the “process” does not best fit me.
It also may not be surprising to know that this realization came the day after this. I have not often felt –in my soul –ferociously exhausted. And what follows is that I feel limp and wrinkled — like an old, soaked towel which has been twisted to ring out excess water. But ultimately though, also cleaner and lighter.
Awareness that following the mainstream process may not be best the for me has given space for a plan to bud — one that better suits me. There is hope in that.