Anxious little heart, be quiet!

Will I be able to drive back home?
Am I worth his love?
Are they talking about me?
I don’t think I can survive a 12 hour flight. 

The questions of everyday life: will I be able to make this work?
While it sounds like a perfectly everyday question, it is not the case if you’re an anxious wonder. Living with anxiety is like fighting the devil from within. The moment an idea takes over your mind, and starts to grow arms – legs – feet – hands – eyes and then a brain of its’ own, you are impregnated with paranoia for a few minutes. In some cases, the minutes turn into hours of pushing this mighty beast that’s sitting on your chest off that mountain of certitude.

Sometimes I’m in a lift – it is a routine exercise. You get on board, you press that button and the lift goes up. Upon reading a few reports of horrible and disgusting deaths in lifts, you tend to recollect the exact same association and merge it with your mortal fears. I do this, quite frequently.

The adrenaline on certain occasions can be strong enough to make you feel dips in your temperature, pains in your chest and often the gnawing feeling of something terrible on the cards. There are many such petty fears; of course petty by your standards. My vision is not microscopic when it comes to your flaws and your fantasies but it sure is microscopic when it zooms into my world of fears. And there are many!

Living with an anxious soul is like being on a treadmill beyond your capacity to run. When the body maxes out on its’ limits, your mind goes into the overdrive thought cycle which wouldn’t let you sleep. I account several sleepless nights to the thought of losing someone when they are not going anywhere. I may fervently detest flying because I feel every jerk in the plane’s response to the clouds, my body responds to the little dips and sways of the monster vehicle.

I’m terrified whether I come of as a friendly person or if I’ve offended the stranger I didn’t smile at, maybe I hurt someone by taking away that last bite of food off the table. I’m taken aback by the inability to voice a few feelings that only articulate themselves as the sound of gasps for more air. The best way to understand anxiety is to recollect the first time you were going to attend school – that is it. Another simpler way to put this would be – imagine you are sitting in for an interview with a panel of 15 people. They are grilling you with questions and you are finding words to match the pace of their arguments and suddenly, in midst of this chaotic flight you realise you want to fart.

That’s anxiety for me. A constant battle in my mind. The german shepherd who wants to bite the head off my sanity, wouldn’t agree to go by days tame. He would bark ideas so frightful that I cannot deny the existence of some. The self-worth dilemmas, that he poops all over and the constant investigation of banal conversations he pees over. This anxious four-legged creature resides in me and for once, I don’t hate it entirely. I’ve come to love it because sometimes the fear of the details can save you a penny or two. The investigation of banal conversations can offer depth. For mere philosophical ideas may have taken birth in someone’s anxious break down. Who knew if A Room Of One’s Own was prepared from the insights of precipitations from a sleepless night.

You can blame me for finding meaning in this dog fight; I would just call it another anxious case of existential epiphanies.

– Just Panda Thoughts


Upon understanding solitude.

Sometimes in quiet whispers to yourself, in midst of chaos and smudged desire you are left feeling warm. Not warm, of the kind when the sun shines. The warmth of how solitary and quiet your mind feels. There’s a rush in being surrounded by a cacophony of voices; like when you hear their stories, see their searching eyes hoping to connect and make sense of what you say. The anticipation of crossing that bridge of judgement and being accepted. The silent ‘yeah dude’ or an itsy bitsy smirk. We all wish for words that resonate a sense of knowing and familiarity, yet the search for something new and different leads us onto a confusing roller-coaster ride of emotive instability.

Here I was thinking of the little sigh of yours, when you heard none of mine.

Such is life; you hear people and pick a few, and out of those few you pick one or two. There’s someone always you need, at an arms reach to bounce a few stupid ideas, or to bum the last few drags of a dying cold cigarette, someone to nod when you complacently rant. It doesn’t have to be one person for everyone. It’s not an idea of the platonic souls coming together. Complexity here lies, not in the lack of ‘one’ but in the abundance – and then comes the railroads that never meet.

I’m often pestered by the look on the face of those squirrels so smug – in pairs, comfortable. They’ve found someone to bounce their stupid ideas of and they look highly amused at the look in my eyes. It’s the way jealousy betrays you to the innocent observer. It conveys to them the emptiness of your soul – hoping to latch on at the first grasp, at the first touch.

The whimper of my wishes turned down, is also someone’s wish fulfilled. There is an order to all things human. I often defying that order seem hapless and close to befriending solitude. It’s a shell to retreat into or out of. It is warm and familiar. It can replace the knowing look of your eyes I couldn’t hold long enough. That’s the ruse I’d pick for today.

– Just Panda Thoughts

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