Don't Ever Change Anything . . . Ever.

 More from the good doctor . . .  

"We live in a society that is risk adverse.  Enormous time and energy is devoted to promoting safety in all we do.  It's often hard to sell unhappy alcoholics on the idea of taking the chance necessary to alter attitudes and behaviors that play a role in their chronic discouragement.  Every decision is measured against the probability that it will increase or decrease anxiety.  To the degree that one's choices become constrained by a need for anxiety avoidance, one's life shrinks.  As this happens, the anxiety is reinforced and soon the sufferers become fearful, not of anything external, but of anxiety itself."

In layman's terms - an alcoholic would rather sit in his own shit than get up and move.  A while ago I was on the losing end of yet another group conscience.  This no longer puzzles me as I'm the dude always looking to change something and I'm aware that most people loathe change.  A Canadian friend of mine, in his typically understated manner, remarked: "So I guess the lesson is don't ever change anything ever."

I get it.  I'm not being chased by tigers or enemy soldiers or gang members.  My house is snug and secure.  I have access to doctors and dentists and bankers and counselors who can help me navigate through any of the minor difficulties that come my way.  So my anxiety-prone brain makes stuff up.  Half the time I don't even know what I'm anxious about.  If I had to walk down a dark alley at night in a dangerous neighborhood to get to my house I wouldn't be anxious - I'd be afraid, and rightly so.  But most of the time I'm worrying about things that I know intellectually aren't important or - worse yet - I don't even know what I'm nervous about.  There's just a film of vague dread covering everything.  This is the worst, this sense of Impending Doom.

So we're getting ready for another long trip into uncharted territory so I'm getting keyed up.  I'm almost positive that nothing bad is going to happen and I am positive that if it does I'll handle it.  If I had to name them most of the things I'm concerned about aren't important and are easily overcome.  But . . . still.  Newness. The lack of control that comes with a journey to a new place.  The loss of comfort that comes with leaving familiar things behind.  I'm still going to do it.  I have enough muscle memory left of how great I feel after I've overcome the unknown.