It is Friday afternoon. I just got home from the office. I could manage to tie-up the loose ends, so today I went to the office for the first time with nothing other to do than my only programming task I undertook before I leave. Just like in good old days, four years ago, when I was doing software development instead of project management. I had to concentrate only on the programming task at hand, nothing else. Despite this, I am still nervous, and it bothers me a lot.
I feel tingling and weakness in my legs all day. By the time I got home, I was worried about what to do in the evening with Sophie. She told me that she wanted to go out after a hard day, but I am anxious to go out. My thoughts are running wild in my head. I am trying to stay calm and let go of things, but all I think about is the future and what would happen to me now that I had quit my job. I am evaluating my current situation all the time, I wonder if I was ever going to back to normal. I am trying to let go, trying to focus, but I can’t. Instead, I am struggling and sliding deeper into the swamp.
I know the theory Kabat-Zinn told me: examine my thoughts and feelings carefully, embrace and accept them until they evaporate as I go closer to them. However, this rarely works when I try to do it in my head. But it almost always works when I sit down to write. That’s why I sat down writing now in the first place. Writing helps me arrange my flashing, crazy, overwhelming thoughts. First they form fleecy clouds, then dark storm-clouds, then the wind starts blowing, and all the thunder and lightning starts, my mind goes dark, and I am unable to escape it and clear my mind. Unfathomable thought-crumbs and half-feelings flood my head. Thoughts that are unclear, unformulated, unspoken. When I sit down and open an empty page in my diary, and try to formulate those fearful thoughts into words, then everything gets clearer and more concrete slowly because I look down to their core essence. Half-thoughts take shape as whole thoughts, I write them, read them, face them, and they lose half their power. They become thoughts and feelings that I have words for, and as it has a shape and form, it must have a right to exist and to be felt as well. If it can be named, someone before has already felt it so I can feel it too.
What do I feel now? Faint tingling in my legs and mild tension in my shoulders. My body reflects what’s in my mind. I am anxious and fearful about my condition and my future. I am afraid that I will never be happy, well-balanced, and confident again, no matter how many reasons I have to feel otherwise. I fear that I won’t ever be able to perform well in my job, that I won’t ever be able to make women happy, no matter how happy Sophie seems to be with me. I am afraid of my future, of the unknown. I fear people. I feel like I’ve lost my path, and I can’t find it. Meanwhile, I feel like I miss out something, that I miss out on life. I feel like I should do this and that, that I should feel this and that, that I should think this and that. I want things to be different than how they are. With that, I dig an even deeper gap between my actual situation and my desired ideal state. It doesn’t help.