Or, what was I thinking?
I have been battling a lot of anxiety about this road trip. (Reminder: I’m driving by myself from the middle of the country to the West Coast, then up it to Canada, then back, in about 18 or 19 days.) At one point I woke up in the middle of the night with something like a panic attack and for an hour my mind made lists of things that had to be done before I went back to sleep. When I woke up, I could not remember anything from those lists. Helpful, brain.
As the day of departure has gotten closer, and my ADHD has caused me to put off certain large tasks that really need to be done before I leave, I’ve gotten more and more stressed. I spent two days convinced I was just going to cancel the trip.
It’s been a lot of fun. (It’s not. To be clear. It’s not been a lot of fun.)
My anxiety has really centered on just a few things, though.
Being Alone
Before about two years ago, I had never lived alone. I’m in my fifties, mind you. Not once. From home, to college, to roommates in NYC, to living with my future spouse, to living with my spouse and dogs and children.
Living by myself has been hell. Those first six months were depression and crying and medication and grasping at friends (one in particular who I credit with saving my life by just being there every single time I needed her), and never believing I was enough, even just enough for me.
I’m better now. Than that, at least. But I still don’t like being alone with myself. I’m still able to find myself in a hole and digging furiously. I’m much better about recognizing that hole now, and at least getting rid of the shovel.
But I am facing several days of 9+ hour drives. That’s a lot of time to fill with music, audiobooks, and podcasts. But also, I want time to think. There are some thinks I need to have about some big things. And this seems like a good time. Yet, the fear of having that much time in my head with myself is very palpable. And the big things I have to think about are a little anxiety producing in and of themselves.
Mind you, I’m not actually going to be alone much on this trip. Of eighteen nights, only four are going to be spent in hotels by myself. I’ll be staying most of the time with old friends or relatives, which I luckily have up and down the coast. So four nights with myself, and a handful of very long drives.
It will be fine, ey says in a very convincing manner. But you can understand my anxiety, given my history of not handling alone time well, and the very big things I have to think about.
Being Gone for Three Weeks
This is the other big anxiety I have. Since coming out, and especially since living alone, I have been madly throwing myself at every queer social event, seeing if I stick. I have been meeting people, and making friends, and going back (the secret to making friends is going back again and again), and it has worked! I have a good community, and among them I have several really good friends. Coupled with some of the friends I kept from the before times, and some I made during the in between times, I am blessed with a lot of people who I know care about me.
But I will be gone for three weekends. A lot happens in three weeks, especially with new friendships. I worry that when I get back, some things will have shifted. I worry that I’ll be back to square one, or maybe square two, with some of the relationships I’ve been building.
And I know that’s stupid. The handful of friends I’ve confided this to (oh, hello, whole world that now knows this!) have told me I’m loved, and that they will miss me, and that they will be excited when I get back.
And I’m not heading to the wilderness! I’m driving Interstates to major cities. We can text, and email, and share on FB and Instagram like we do when I’m sitting in the same chair I’m sitting in now, at home.
And I know this. I do. Honestly.
But I know what it felt like to me when I didn’t have those people. And I am straight up afraid of feeling that way again.
Actual Things I Should Worry About
What about the actual things that could happen? Snow and ice over the mountains? Breaking down in the desert? Running out of gas? Getting in an accident?
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
None of that worries me. I mean, sure, these are all possible. But I’m not afraid of being able to handle them if they happen. It’s just… stuff that happens. People handle that stuff every day. I’m sure I will be able to. Oh, it’ll make me late, or cost money, or cause me to stay in a different town than I thought I would. But that’s okay, I expect some of that when traveling. A flight will be delayed. You’ll miss the ferry because of a train. Your luggage will be in China when you’re in London.
It’s all going to be okay.
Should People Be Worried About Me?
Honestly, no.
I’ll be fine, in the end. I’ll have had an adventure, met up with some really old, really good friends. Kindled some new friendships out of very small embers. I’ll have a metric ton of photos, some of which I hope to post here.
Anxiety is something a lot of people live with. Issues with self-image, too. Loneliness, also. I’m better equipped than many to deal with these issues, and have been learning more every day about how they come up for me.
I will be fine.
But it’s also a part of me, and not something I’m ever going to be rid of. Sometimes, I’ll feel it more. Sometimes I have to laugh at how silly I’ve been. And if it ever gets really bad, I know that the friends I have, the ones who might be worried about me, will be there.
One more full day of packing (and yes, worrying) to go.
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