Tag: adventure

Twenty One Days of Change – and Routine

I’m going to take a quick few seconds to set the scene – it’s Sunday evening. I’m eating spinach dip straight out of the container, scooping copious amounts of it into my mouth with multigrain crisps, sipping water and coming down from a multi-hour buzz. Game of Thrones (Season One) is playing in the background as I type this – I needed noise to drown out my brain’s colliding trains of thought, and I’ve found accented voices dissimilar from my own help me to concentrate.

I’ve just come from an afternoon filled with conversation, coffee, wine, whiskey, and Captain Marvel. It’s been a tumultuous few weeks – I accepted a promotion at work, flew to PA for “bigtime” meeting, signed another lease, committed to my first international trip (coming to a blog near you Summer of 2019!), and was out of bed with enough time to drink coffee from home each morning for 21 consecutive days for the first time in ten years. To say things are evolving is an understatement.

So really what I’d like to talk about today with regard to my personal evolution is the 21 cups of coffee – I’ve started a new experiment, as I’m known to do, naming myself, yet again, as the subject of the study. I’ve committed to myself to set my alarm for the same time every morning for at least 30 consecutive days, weekends included. I chose 08:45, as this is 2.25 hours prior to needing to be at work on typical days and still early enough to make it to the extenuating early meetings occurring once-ish per week. I’m averaging 7 hours of sleep per night at about 35.7% deep sleep, assuming my tracker is correct. I’m 21 days in with 9 days to go.

The biggest change I’ve found thus far is the exhaustion at night – by the time 01:00 rolls around, my typical work departure, I am absolutely drained. My insomnia has been relatively manageable, with only two exceptions to that rule over the last three weeks. I’m also waking up prior to the alarm with no assistance – I’ve actually seen three sunrises, which is unbelievably cool for me. I’ve worked either nights or second/third shifts my entire adult life, so sunrises are pretty unfamiliar.

The ultimate goal of this is to take control over my free time to progress some of my personal goals, one of which has recently evolved to include revisiting my attempts to learn another language (or two or three). As aforementioned, I’ve decided to go on my first international trip this year, which will tentatively include two, three, or four different countries, depending on the solidified itinerary. This is a big deal, and ultimately the reason behind the anxiety bucket list I started all those years ago – on the bright side, this will be my new motivation for the time being. On the less-bright side, I’m now anxious about being anxious for the new few months, until the trip date arrives.

Really what this means is I now have a timeline with which to measure my progress and/or regression in regards to my anxiety. This is a good thing! Last year was an indication of what happens when I back away from my bucket list, and I refuse to let that happen again. Last year broke my heart – this year is my attempt to stitch it back together.

Cue the opening scene – the biggest change between day one of this experiment and today is the fact that I’m sitting here, munching my snack, drinking water, and feeling mildly optimistic about this year. Yes, I’m worried about tomorrow – yes, I’m worried about yesterday; this difference right now is that my potential adventures are louder than my fear.

PS: Captain Marvel was badass, though it pained me to watch an actress with such similar features to someone from my past – one of those so-close-yet-so-far moments. I highly recommend the film to anyone on the fence.


Ebbing my anxiety, one bucket list (blog post) at a time.

It’s been about a week since my first post, and I’m excited to announce I haven’t given it up! (+1 Emily!) I have a horrid track record with “new” projects, especially when the project involves sinking my teeth into my innermost battles with mental health and publicly sharing them with the world. (I promise I’m not always this dramatic – I hide my anxiety behind self-deprecating humor. Wow, real unique, huh?) ((See, there I go again. BE NICE TO YOURSELF, EMILY, GEEZ.))

Anyways. I’ve been thinking about how to shape this blog to be both value added to myself and to you. It’s interesting how many different potential directions this could go; self-help DIY, chronological documentation, experience-sharing, therapeutic deep-dive, etc. It’s like the Sylvia Plath quote that I love far too much about not knowing which fig to eat – the reason it’s been a week since my last post is not for lack of content, but lack of direction.

That being said, for now, I’m thinking the best thing I can do here is talk about my anxiety bucket list, both in what I’ve done and am currently doing as well as future intentions. I’m sure this blog will take shape at some point… just like my life direction, amIright?! (The self-disdain is loud tonight.)

SATURDAY, January 5th, 2019
On Saturday, I walked the half a block from my apartment to a nail salon I’d been eyeing for the last 8 months. They didn’t have time for a walk in, but they did have time to set an appointment for me one hour later.

I left, stopped by the CVS nearby, swung into a Jimmy Johns, and proceeded to walk and eat a sub while I wandered the downtown area. As someone who has suffered from anxiety about eating in front of people for most of my life, it was strangely exhilarating to munch on a sub while crossing paths with people who clearly were not paying attention to me or my scandalous snack one bit. This was a good reminder of the ideology that you are the main character in your own story, as is everyone else – it’s not that they don’t care, but we all have our own internal monologue driving our attention, so we’re too busy with ourselves to notice the skittish woman chomping down on her veggie sub in the middle of the sidewalk.

I grabbed a small latte and walked back to the nail salon, but not before stalking the brand new autonomous shuttle the city launched a few weeks ago – catching that thing and taking it for a spin is high on my bucket list, I’ll tell you what.

Once I was seated, I was faced with the largest challenge yet – small talking with the nail tech. I couldn’t possibly grab my conversation cards out of my pocket while she was actively holding my fingers hostage, so when she asked me what brought me in, I told her – The Anxiety Bucket List. She was curious, so I explained the premise; surprisingly, her eyes softened when I told her this was part of my journey to combat anxiety, and she vehemently stated that everyone should have a similar list. I ended up asking them what I should add next, and the nail tech to her left promptly exclaimed, “Rock climbing!” Luckily, this was already a staple on my list, so I was able to pick his brain a bit on rights/wrongs and suggested venues.

Long story short, my nails turned out fabulously and the whole experienced was really fascinating. I picked a moody purplish black color that, in my opinion, adequately captures my stormy disposition. I’ll be enjoying this decision for the next week for sure.

Now that my fingers were looking exquisite, I decided I should go test these babies out – that’s right, I went STRAIGHT to a second hand music shop to try out keyboards. I’ve been wanting one in my apartment for years, but hadn’t had the courage to go looking; apparently dramatic nails were the catalyst I didn’t know I needed.

I walked in, avoiding eye contact with the people behind the counter, and was simultaneously assaulted by a cacophony of musical noise (meant with a positive connotation) along with several cold shoulders – I was there for 45 minutes and not a single employee approached me. Now this is a good thing in that they gave me my space, but tricky in that I needed their expertise to know what I was getting myself into. After I played a good 25% of the songs stored in my dusty memory banks, I detached myself from the sleek Yamaha I’d fallen for and quietly snuck out of the store, feeling a strange juxtaposition of exhilaration from the passion music draws out of me and disappointment in myself for not talking to the employees.

Thinking I’d made a big mistake in opening up that tender part of myself, I started to drive back home – I’m not sure whether it was the drama of my nails or the determination to keep my adventuresome streak alive a bit longer, but something pushed me to seek out a store I’d seen briefly in my research earlier that day, called “Grave’s Piano and Organ Co.”

When I found the store, I immediately questioned my better judgement – it was isolated, behind another storefront, and looked straight out of the 80’s. It took an immense amount of courage and mental prodding (“if you don’t walk in there RIGHT NOW what the hell are you going to write about on your DOOMED BLOG?!”) to get me through the front door.

To be continued… I want to be sure I give this story the enthusiasm it deserves, and I’m too far in my own head to feel that what I’m writing is worthwhile. I’ll be back.

Until next time. (She leans back, dissatisfied. What was her problem? This weekend was amazing. She knocked off three bucket list items in two days – this should be easy, stream-of-consciousness style. “But what if no one cares?” She closed her eyes. The quiet, condescending inner-monologue continued. “What if your writing is a bore? What makes you so special that people will want to read what you have to write?” She rubbed her hands over her eyes, frustrated. She was not going to win the battle tonight. As she felt what had moments ago been warm excitement in her chest grow cold, the apathy smoothly took control, driving her fingers to navigate the treacherous mouse to the top of the page. “That dumb blue button,” she thought bitterly as she clicked ‘Publish’ knowing what she’d written was nowhere near ready. She sighed, turned off the lamp, and curled into a ball in her dark room. “Tomorrow,” she whispered to herself. Tomorrow, she’d try again.)

Steinway & Sons piano with left hand posed on the keys, dark purplish black nail polish on each of the five fingers.
To be continued – for now, a moody picture of the aforementioned moody nails will suffice.