Molar #2

Anxiety:  An unpleasant state of mental uneasiness, nervousness, apprehension, and obsession or concern about some uncertain event.  

I realize that we all have our crosses to bear.  Anxiety is definitely my cross.  It has always been the overriding mental state that dominates my existence.  And it doesn't help that it is so indistinct.  I don't so much mind being afraid of something that is fear-worthy.  Some shit is scary.  It's fear over the normal non-scary shit that's so irritating.

I don't really ever remember being much free from anxiety, even as a child.  I don't have especially fond memories of school - any school, from kindergarten through post-graduate work.  I remember being afraid that I was going to fail, that I wasn't going to fit in, and this is despite the fact that I generally succeeded at a pretty high level.  

Uncertainty is the key word in this pathology, I think.  The knowledge that the danger is implausible is not often helpful in banishing the anxiety.  That's what makes it so frustrating.

Then I grew up in a family where warnings ruled the day - appropriate warnings, bad warnings, all kinds of warnings.  There was no filter on the warnings.  A potential danger or disaster could easily be found in any situation.  My mother - god love this greatest of all great women - could see the danger in anything.  The woman would be upset if I won the lottery, imagining all kinds of ways that this good fortune could blow up in my face.  She could ferret out the ferrets in a totally ferret-free environment.

I've mentioned before an unhealthy obsession with my health which almost anyone would characterize as excellent, teeth notwithstanding.  I don't know how people who have serious illnesses and conditions can get out of bed in the morning.  Whenever I have a twinge or an ache I'm sure that it's going to get worse and that it's never going to get better.  I have wasted huge amounts of time worrying about minor aches or twinges that have always gotten better, the late, great Molar #2, god rest her soul, notwithstanding.

(I wonder what they did with the shards of old #2 after they wrenched her from my head?  I should have collected them for a decent Christian burial).

I've taken medicine for my Generalize Anxiety Disorder for years.  Maybe I've become acclimated to it?  Maybe it's time for a refresher course with a professional mind-bender?  I've done it in the past and gotten a lot of relief from the work.

And I have had a few crappy years, losing mom, dad, and Ken H.  Those are some fear-worthy events and fear usually manifests itself with me as anxiety.  Some people get depressed, some get angry, some get anxious.

Something bad is going to happen.  I just know it