Anxiety Attacks and Killa Trav

I’m sitting here having one of the first panic attacks I’ve had in a long time. As with most panic attacks, I don’t know what the root cause of it is but I have a feeling its about time this time.

I had my second foot surgery less than three weeks ago and am scheduled to go back to work in another week (although with some nerve issues and complications from the surgery, I’m not entirely sure that is going to happen.) But let’s pretend that I do go back in a week and a half. I thought that I might be able to get the first complete draft of How To Be A Good Boy done over this recovery period. That was the goal, at least, to use this time off of work to do nothing but complete this draft. And wouldn’t you know it- I’m at the pivotal part of the book and I am stuck. Like, stuck-stuck. The character development was easy, the parallel story lines of the two dogs? Easy. And now I’m at the part where the story pivots from two story lines into one, and I don’t know how to get past this point. I know how the story ends- it is just filling in this middle part. So maybe that’s the anxiety- just feeling stuck. But I think it is also the feeling of running out of time. Once I go back to work, it is SO hard to make the time to write. I have the time, to be clear, but it is hard to make the time because all of a sudden I am back to work and chores and errands and whatever else, so the down time I do have feels like movie watching time or phone-scrolling time. Which are both dumb options, because neither one of them gets this book done but I know every single writer out there can relate.

So I’m not really sure if this feeling of impending doom and the sensation of dread sitting dead center of my chest is that I don’t know HOW to finish this book, or the feeling of IF I DON’T GET THIS ENTIRE BOOK DONE IN THE NEXT WEEK I AM NEVER GOING TO FINISH IT. To be fair, it could also have something to do with the steroids I am on to try and help with the nerve issues- maybe they are making me feel all jittery and panicky, or maybe they are just exasperating everything else. But one thing is for sure, I feel like I am in an existential crisis of time doom, like there just isn’t enough time to do anything. Hell- I still need to go back and do a third round of edits on my dad’s book, try and market my kids book or query agents and also query my dad’s book, but need to write those query letters but I can’t do that because I should be working on my book and OH MY GOD I JUST NEED TO GO FOR A RUN AND GET ALL THESE UNCOMFORTABLE SENSATIONS OUT OF MY BODY BUT I CANT BECAUSE I HAD FOOT SURGERY, but also as long as I’m working on something that’s something, right? Like if I am at least working on this essay, or started writing yet another book yesterday I’m doing something?

A crisis of time doom. Not enough time to write my books but when I have the time I can’t figure out how to get over the hump and not enough time to move to New York and not enough time to live in Europe and not enough time to heal properly and not enough time to get an agent and be a NYT Bestseller and not enough time to sit and meditate and change my mental state because we are what we believe and I need to shift my beliefs and manifest a different path and omg why isn’t anyone buying my stuff of Facebook marketplace and next thing you know I am ninety and I still haven’t left Austin and my book is still only halfway done and uuughghghghhghghhghghhg. Basically.

I know enough about anxiety attacks to know this will pass. That tomorrow I could wake up and knock out 10,000 words of my book and get over the hump and be smooth sailing to the end. My husband asked if there was anything we could do to help and I said no, just sit with it and know it will work itself out- sometimes you have to sit with the uncomfortableness of it all to get to the other side. It sucks but it’s fine. It’s resilience, I think. That doesn’t mean we have to suffer, but it is ok to be uncomfortable. I don’t have to run out and have a cocktail at the first sign of discomfort, or smoke weed at the first twitch of anxiety. Usually, anxiety is a warning sign, or a call to action. In this case, in my crisis of not having enough time, it calls me to find a way to refocus, make a fucking list or whatever, get organized, and try again. Sit and meditate for a minute, I don’t know. But where I am now, at the end of this mini-essay, is far more calm than where I was at the beginning, which also tells me that all I ever need to really do is write to start to feel better. It would be fucking great if the writing was several chapters of my book, but at least it’s something.

My to-do list has been highlighted, my anxiety paving the path: sit. Meditate. Get clear. Ask for help from God. Wait for answers. Wait for the story to unfold in your brain. Be patient. Fold your laundry if it helps get some nervous energy out. Clean out your bags. Symbolically make space for new ideas by getting rid of old things. Prepare for the life you want. Journal. Be gracious. Your body is healing from being cut open and sewn back together. Work on other projects to stay in the creative fold if necessary. HAVE FAITH. Have faith that this book was plopped into your brain for a reason, and it will get done at the right time and in the right space. Have faith that God is going to create space for you to complete it. Have faith that the reason you are in such a hurry to be a published, best-selling author is because future you already is one, so relax a little. You like how I just worked through so much of this with you? Is this my live journal? Are you my therapist, dear reader?

**** you don’t know it, but I just took a little ADHD break and went to get some easy mac, and then decided to fold my laundry, and then oh look, let me go through my sweatshirts and list a pair of shoes online and now I’ve decided to start my taxes? But also let me finish this first.****

So anyway, my panic attack has subsided, so that’s nice. Maybe tomorrow will be the day the answer arrives on how to move forward with the book, and if it doesn’t, I guess I can work on another project until it does. And when it does, I can’t wait to mention the lady on the internet that said she didn’t want to read my drivel in my acknowledgements, because if there is one thing I do well, is prove people wrong and hold a grudge. When I finish that book, and it is a bestseller, I will have all the people that said I couldn’t do it to thank. Maybe you didn’t even say I couldn’t do it but tried to find a way to make me doubt myself. Or weren’t supportive. Y’all know who you are. And in case you were wondering, there is never a reason, ever, to try and ground someone’s ambitions. If someone says, I think I want to be an astronaut, and they had a D average in school, all you need to say is, wow, what a cool goal. Don’t ever sit there and say, oh, but you don’t have the experience. Or oh, do you know how hard it is to be an astronaut? Just say, wow man, that’s fucking cool. Let them figure it out. It’s not your job to be the rain on someone’s parade and that’s just facts. If I apply to be the CEO of fucking Pfizer, you just say, good luck! I know it’s absurd, I don’t need your negative energy. Just let me reach for the stars, OK? If you don’t know how to do that, start watching clips of Travis Kelce because that man right there IS A HYPE MAN. I guarantee he has never told his girlfriend or buddy, you know it’s pretty unlikely that you will do A, B, C. He just stays stoked and keeps whatever else to himself. Just do that. Don’t ever tell someone that something is hard or impossible.

And that’s all I have to say about that. We have pivoted from crippling anxiety to Travis Kelce being a human exclamation point, so I think my job here is done today.

Ciao.