No but really.
Working my way through The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron, which always cracks me up since it's JC for short in all my notes (hint: that's a Jesus joke). But this week, she brought up something that hits pretty close to home for me. She argues that:
"Most blocked creatives have an active addiction to anxiety" (143)
Yeah, an addiction, an active addition to anxiety. Seems ludicrous right? Especially since when you have anxiety you suffer from it. It becomes a little less crazy to me when I think about this Ted talk:
The idea is that addiction is not about the drug/behavior:
it's about the environment and the bonds that you have.
It occurs to me that in this case, Julia Cameron is talking about fear which leads us to trade the angel we fear for the devil we know. I have episodes which keep me awake and tense late into the night in which I fear that I am unloved, alone, and that it's all my fault. I run around and around in my head trying to understand all the aspects of a particular interaction and keep coming around to the idea that it's my fault, all the suffering. Which is a twisted and anxious variation on the Buddhist maxim that life is suffering.
Twisted because in Buddhism the idea of assigning blame is not only useless but clearly damaging as it reinforces the illusion of separation.
TLDR: This means that every time I run through all of these options ideas and make myself sick with anxiety I lay it at my own doorstep and push myself away from the connection that I so desperately crave. Then I blame myself and instead of reaching out, I push myself further into a deep dark hole.
It looks something like this:
Sometimes like this:
It's often humorous when it happens to an anime character--mostly because it's obviously short lived and they have several friends who see it an pull them out telling them that they're being ridiculous and helping them be kind to themselves. I often wish that someone would grab me, laugh, and hand me an apple or something. (Death note reference anyone?)
How does this have to do with being addicted to anxiety?
Being aware that many people suffer from anxiety and that the idea that you're doing it to yourself can be damaging (exhibit A! that's me). I find that putting myself in the corner is easy, fast, and feels effective because I am directly dealing with what's making me sad. Unfortunately that's a lie because in the corner (as the visual representation clearly shows) I'm basically self flagellating and ignoring all methods of actually addressing the problem.
But it feels safe to me, because there's no chance in there that the answer to the question: Didn't you want to say goodbye? Will be answered with: Not really, I don't really care about whether or not I see you. Which would, it seems, be a death nell.
So I'm content to flagellate and sit in my tiny cage of darkness because it requires no risk. I also defend it like a wounded animal. Which is ridiculous because I'm the one wounding myself in the corner.
So where Cameron points to anxiety and says that blocked creatives are often addicted to it. She's pointing to how "We prefer the low-grade pain and occasional heart-stopping panic attack to the drudgery of small and simple daily steps in the right direction" (143).
Her whole deal is continual small steps and small kindnesses to yourself.
She suggests that if you catch yourself asking "What's the use?" in calling someone, reaching out, or satisfying a need of yours--stop and ask "What next?" The mantra is DO SOMETHING, even if it's just stepping out of the corner one step at a time, isolate your steps from one spot into a better place. Don't ask why or what's the use--that's fear talking.
Instead break it down into simple tasks instead of running mental and emotional circles around yourself.
I posted a Tedx talk about emotional health a few posts back. This is related. He talked about how we can start reaching for emotional bandaids when we get an emotional scratch instead of digging into it to see how deep it goes. He points to the mind body connection: i.e. if you're lonely or depressed or refusing to take care of your emotional needs, your body can't take care of itself either.
Same thing I think. If I find myself with a mentally anxious panic attack or fear, I can ask "What next?" and take action--using my physical body to help place a bandaid and some Neosporin on my emotional wound instead of playing in it like a kiddy pool.
It's hard though, because I'm really familiar with using my fears as kiddy pools.
I'll have to find new pools, I guess.
