Anxiety
I haven't had many stories of recent life to share on here lately, and this will continue to be true over the next week or two. I knew a content drought was inevitable when I started this blog, and I knew that I would want to supplement these droughts with essays about topics that are important to me. I apologize that this one doesn't concern a happier topic but it means a great deal to me.
Anxiety is the disorder that operates from the shadows. It can spin a fleeting thought into your deepest concerns. Its name makes it hard to differentiate between a chronic condition and a basic human emotion. Anxiety will only serve to sharpen the blades of your other disorders, and as of late it has been twisting the handle into my gut.
To my credit, there is a lot to be anxious about. The leading artificial intelligence companies are vowing to slow A.I. development as whistleblowers sound the alarm of irreversible progression1. Natural water resources have depleted too far to recover back to their initial levels2. Horrific wars and genocides are being waged in Ukraine, Gaza, Iran, and Sudan, with no resolution in sight. Droughts are only suspended with the arrival of gargantuan weather events such as the "Super El Niño"3 or the devastating flash floods in Nepal4. And if the recent record low in international testing scores5 is anything to go by, it seems that we won't be able to convince the bag-holders of these crises to pick up the fight.
The events happening at a global scale do not even account for the battles we all face at home. Every day, I work the hours I am paid to do, and then I spend the rest of my evening checking Outlook in panic that I missed something. A group chat sends dozens of messages that my phone demands I participate in. I finish cleaning one part of the house, only for another part to fall into disarray. How do the dishes pile up so fast? How does the backyard grow so fast? I need to respond to that text, I'm being a bad friend. Hmm, I can't hang out with them, my September is booked. My September is booked? But the year just started! Am I getting old?
Is there a world where I grow old?
If the warnings from A.I. researchers are correct and not paranoia boosting another I.P.O., then A.I. is going to take my life in another few short years. If it doesn't, perhaps battling over 40% of the world's water supply in 2030 will6. If that doesn't pan out, maybe I will starve or succumb to a supercharged disaster caused by a steady increase in global temperature7. If, by some miracle, we pull it together and fight through the odds... what's left? Can I afford a feeble life on a 401k / IRA when the rest of my working dollars were already incinerated by tariffs and supply chain issues? How can I promise a better world to my children? Will I even have children if I cannot afford them?
We seem to understand the value of oil, timber, minerals, and housing, but not the value of unspoiled beauty, wildlife, solitude, and spiritual renewal.
I have battled anxiety for my entire life, but it has become a stronger enemy over the past decade. It has been particularly plaguing me over the last month, if my previous paragraphs were any indication. So much as a simple email has given me a panic attack, sequestering me to my room with a pillow over my head just to dampen my heightened senses. Somebody goes against the moral code I assigned to reality and it causes me to tremble. I can't fall asleep when I'm overthinking, especially when I'm overthinking how little sleep I've gotten. The smallest of issues has the potential to tip me over the edge. It's a coin flip on whether I'm tipped towards paranoia or blind rage. It's a dark tunnel with seemingly no end.
I have no choice but to persevere.
I have a theory that the COVID-19 pandemic is the catalyst for modern isolationism. Only a few years earlier did technology make the pivot from a virtual playground to a monetized prison. More years were spent indoors as we perceived each other through a digital display instead of in person. The crazy voices are loud on there. Boy, they're loud. I know you've picked a political affiliation to align yourself with. Isn't everyone else on the other side psychotic? They are the definition of bad news, of which there is plenty. I'm happier to log off from work and immerse myself in television, YouTube, or Minecraft.
... or am I?
I do not want to encourage you to live your life blinded to the very real injustices faced by our world, especially those that are self-inflicted. It is important to be an informed citizen and be one of the voices championing your ideal world, which brings me to my main point:
LOG OFF.
Turn off your phone notifications. Read a book. Journal on an ad-free website and do it without the assistance of LLMs. Call your parents. Call your grandparents, if you're lucky enough to have them still. Kiss your partner. Pet your dog. Bask in the sunlight of a warm window. Go outside. Touch grass. Take up an artistic hobby, even if you're bad at it. Get dinner with your friends. Play a sport. Finish that house project you've been putting off. Teach yourself a new skill. Cook a meal. Work out. Compliment someone. Plan a trip. Go to the library. Find an event in your community and force yourself to talk to someone while you're there.
Crazy people do exist, and global tragedies are really happening. That's why, more than ever, we need to see more of you. You will be surprised to remember that most people are not crazy. We are more similar than different. It's human nature to have worries and fears, but it is also human nature to try and help others with their worries and fears.
Last time Kathryn was out of town, I fell into a deep despair with woes that I had no direction for myself. When she's been out of town this time, I went to a community yard sale in an area I had never been to. I told the vendors about my upcoming marriage to Kathryn. They congratulated me and began to speak to their own years of happy marriage, which was encapsulated in some of the very items they were selling. I was helped to my car by a smiling stranger, holding paintings that had already seen a young couple grow old. Now they hang on my wall, ready to see it again.
The mind is designed to stay occupied, and if you don't find the right people and tasks to occupy it with, it will choose its own anxious occupants. I write this not only for any reader who feels similar to me, but also for myself the next time I have a manic episode. You are loved. I do not know how much time you have left and I do not know what life after death looks like. It's up to you whether to choose to spend this time consumed by uncertainties, or doing your best with what life has given you so far. Make the difficult choice.