No Worries

“You should write a blog post about anxiety,” people tell me on occasion.

“Well, you should shut the fuck up,” I generally respond. “This whole goddamn blog is about anxiety.”

“No, I mean a real post,” they generally say, because my friends are not intimidated by me in the least. Okay. Here you go:

I have friends, or my friends have friends, who are new to this anxiety business, and because I’ve never made a secret that much of my world is experienced through a veil of anxiety, I get asked about it a lot. It usually comes out like this: “So, for the past two weeks, I haven’t been able to sleep, and I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack all the time,” or “Hey, I can’t stop thinking about that plane crash/kidnapping/tiger mauling/Muppet fight and I really think I ought to pull my child out of third grade and home school him. Is that normal?”

Yeah, neither of those things are normal. And God knows, maybe you are having a heart attack or you should pull little Cooper, or Quigley, or whatever name you’ve given your child out of school. But chances are, you should probably go talk to somebody.

I don’t remember a day of my life where I wasn’t anxious. In fact, church just confirmed that anxiety was normal. Every week, the priest would say, “Lord, in your mercy, keep us free from sin and protect us from all anxiety as we wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ.” I looked around church, and everyone was like, “Yeah. Amen,” so I thought that everyone felt the same way I felt. It wasn’t until I was much older, and noticed that I washed my hands more often and more frequently, and I checked for killers behind more doors and in more basements than most, that I realized that I might have a different anxiety than the waiting for the return of the Lord variety.

Just like any normal person would get treatment for diabetes, or high blood pressure, I get treatment for anxiety. I take medication, and see a therapist, and try to do all of the things that keep my persistent, anxious thoughts in check. But sometimes, I do shit without even noticing it. I obsess, and I mean OBSESS about where I am going to park. I make lists upon lists, reminding me to do things that are so ingrained into my routine; I doubt it would be possible for me to forget these things. I find it impossible not to say “bless you,” when someone sneezes.

My therapist tells me that my anxiety, and the resulting compulsive (or obsessive, I don’t know the difference) behaviors are all resulting from a deep safety concern. Well, that makes total sense. I was raised in the 70s. Does anyone remember how dangerous the 70s were? This was before MADD really took hold, so our parents were drunk driving us everywhere, and there were no seatbelt laws, so we were sliding all over the vinyl back seats of the car! There was no internet, so nobody was posting videos about how it was bad to marinate barely cooked hamburgers in raw chicken juice, or play with the neighborhood kids, in the street, unsupervised, with our parents’ loaded pistols, until it got dark out. If our neighbor’s dog bit us, we had to go apologize to the dog, and everyone smoked everywhere! I don’t know how any child got out of the 70s not having “deep safety concerns.”

But listen. There is an upside to being anxious. First of all, people who are anxious are great in a crisis. You would think we would fall apart, but the fact is that we’ve already imagined the worst-case scenario for every situation, and in fact, expect that to happen. When the worst does happen, we’re just like, “Yep, I thought so,” and we proceed to kick ass awesomely. Second, anxious people are super observant. We don’t know where danger’s coming from next, so we pay attention to everything. We can find Waldo like that! Third, anxious people can get a lot done. We’re not overwhelmed by feelings of anxiety in high-pressure situations, because that’s the way we’re used to feeling. So if you need someone to perform that emergency tracheotomy or to lift a car off of you, call your anxious friend. We’ll lift that car, do your taxes, and fold all your laundry before you even have a chance to get some ibuprofen for your car bruise.

Also: anxiety can be hilarious. You want to laugh and laugh? Menace me with moldy food, or make me walk on the left side instead of the right. Interrupt me while I’m washing my hands, or hide the one “approved” pencil that I use at work. It really is all about safety: moldy food is contaminated; walking on the right side is necessary so I can keep my fighting hand free; washing hands, obviously protects me from all that fucking moldy food, and having my special pencil right there where I left it means that thievery is still in check and/or that my memory is still good enough that I put it where it was supposed to go, and found it where I left it. Makes sense now, doesn’t it?

So, if you’re worried about being anxious, just remember these simple things: A) anxiety is just like more-awesome diabetes. It can be controlled, but you may need a professional’s help to figure out how. B) Great people, like Woody Allen, Charlie Brown, and Ross from Friends are anxious, and one of those people got to marry Rachel. I think. I stopped watching Friends after, like, season two. C) Everyone is afraid of something. And fears are there to protect you. But if your fears are hurting you, then it’s time to get help. D) If any of you touch my pencil, you’ll regret it.