I want to write. I like writing and I like writing about anxiety. I have lofty intentions of doing a Caitlin Moran, taking something historically lauded as unfun writing fodder, pointing at it and laughing until it becomes a normal part of the social consciousness. She did it with feminism and I want to make anxiety an equally open and honest topic of discussion. I’ve always found laughing in the sweaty face of hard life-things can make them feel less scary, to control the whole world with your own punny jokes. Unfortunately for me the topic is also the issue.
At least once a day I come up with an idea for something I want to write about anxiety. I think long and hard and sometimes I try my hand at writing it down but it often only gets this far.
You see anxiety and procrastination hide within each other like a set of babushka dolls. Ugly ones that no one wants but you feel like you have to keep because some sickly relative gave them to you and you’ll feel guilty if you throw them away or try to pass them off to someone else. Even if you repaint them all pretty and lovely you’ll never be able to forget that time the relly in question yelled at you for something you didn’t do and that actually she was kind of a bitch anyway. They are pretty much guilt clutter.
When I start to type an idea for a blog post, I plan to be witty and dry and charming. I have plans to woo the general public into seeing that anxiety is hard but that with work and perseverance it can be controlled and the sufferer can live and long and happy life, a bit like a cat with AIDs. Though with every word I type I feel less witty, less charming. I am not the hilarious blithe creature I want to be. I am a blithering idiot. At this point I will re read what I have written and be shocked at my own inadequacies. The magical writing syrup which should be flowing from my fingers is not as sweet as I have hoped and I will not be feasting off the pancakes of my talent at the Ritz of the internet any time soon.
This is the reason my posts are so infrequent.
So here is a list of the ideas I have had for blogs I intend to write (when I manage to get Bruce into some form of mental homoerotic bondage style restraint and slog through my intended topics log with a free and quiet mind)
- Anxiety at work. How do I have a job when I’m scared of everything?
- How to find a toilet pretty much everywhere, the travel edition.
- Cafes; how to decide if one of friendly for panic/non purchase use.
- 20 odd more best and worst toilets I have photographed.
- Having a relationship. Part 2 of my Greek tragedy.
- Grief. I’ve had it and you’ve had it but it really is Buzzkillington.
- Planes, buses and trains
- Am I disabled? Why can’t I have a parking pass like a one legged man?
- Agoraphobia is about control and autonomy of movement not fear of outside.
- Why being a grown up is dumb. I was scared of insurance as a child.
- Everyone at work hates me.
- Anxiety is like a house fire. You have to suffocate it to win.
And many more platinum hits which may or may not appear on the interwebs at some point in the following year (s).