My foiree into blogging: Yikes. Why public? Why the internet? What do I have to contribute which would mandate a blog? I don't know but it feels right - which is more than I can say about a lot of things in this life. I'll ride the wave until the ordinariness of being a blogger sets in. Or perhaps I'll be a self-ordained memoirist. Hah.
I have panic attacks. Probably clinical ones, though I have yet to see a doctor about them beyond the admitting their existence by x-ing the box on a form. Currently, I'm resisting the desire to change the subject of this blog at the expense of honesty because I fear I'm stereotyping myself. For some reason I assume panic attacks/hyperventilating requires the sufferer to don pocket protectors and thick glasses. One of those characteristics are truetolife, but this is besides the point. I can't be too ashamed nor surprised as I was born into a family with an extensive history of mental illness. Neither can I feel bashful about the circumstances in which they occur: I've had them because of awful collegiate experiences of discrimination based on my religious beliefs (or lack there of), because of past emotional and sexual abuse, and because of a filled-to-the-brim-w/-unknowns trip to Africa. Legitimate times of stress. But now these comfortable excuses may be for naught: I'm having anxiety attacks due to adulthood.
I'm moving into a new apartment, starting new jobs, and getting used to a new-ish friend group. There are other circumstances that would incur higher levels of stress - family's financial trouble, big and disappointing changes in my plans, and dear friendlies dealing with big life crises. This is not to delineate my feelings because the circumstances are legitimate, but I guess by writing them down I'm realizing a perspective. Looking at these instances will assuredly modify my vantage point as I delve into a new life, but should it shake the forevers to which I've already subscribed? Should it transform Adventure into Impossibility? Should it give me sleepless nights and take away my breath?
Perhaps my age/generation-old anxiety is robbing me of my chance to discover a nuanced life experience. Yea, it's going to be scary. If healthy mothers can seize unexpectedly, the sweetest things can be violated, and Wyoming towns can be terrorized, I cannot hide behind ordinarines to avoid harsh realities. That's not something I want to do anyway. But perhaps this blogging thing, this memoir-ing thing, will give me a chance to engage fairly and honestly w/ those earthly injustices. "I wear them, they won't wear me" kindofathing. Beyond having astute things to say, analyzing the scary stuff helps me keep it all at arms length.
So, I guess I answered my question. I'm turning to the Internet to evaluate, synthesize, and avoid meltdowns. I mean, I already desperately search for things like G. Keiller's meditations. Of course I don't intend to rival them, but perhaps I'll uncover the young wisdom I already possess as a method of calming myself (if that's not too presumptuous to say). For now:
"As Christopher Robin said to Pooh, 'Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think'." - A.A. Milne
"Life is good, no matter the disappointments -- O God the disappointments. Just square your shoulders and give them your utter best. As the late great Marilyn Monroe said, "I don't want to make money, I just want to be wonderful." Life is insurmountable, but we mount up every morning and ride forward. Thanks for being wonderful, dear heart." - G. Keiller
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