25 Things I Fear For Good Reason

The majority of the time I'm a very rational, level-headed person. Sure, I can be dramatic and excitable and crazy, but that's not my default. As for the rest of the time, I tend to be consumed by one dominant trait: Anxiety. Even when applying all my rationality, telling myself over and over to stop thinking about something, to stop worrying about something, it tends to just get worse. When the anxiety monster strikes, nothing will make it stop. It continues to pick and pick until I cry, scream, have a panic attack, or become immobile.

This year I've been actively working on conquering my anxiety and am getting better. But that's not what I want to talk about right now. Let's have a little fun with Anxious Bonnie first.

A recent post on the website Hello Giggles, 20 Things I Vaguely Fear With No Explanation, had me clicking and reading faster than anything. While only one of hers is also one of mine, it got me reminiscing. I have spent a lot of time worrying about things, mainly things that could never happen, but in order to ensure they don't happen, I've had to worry about them first. 

So these are some thoughts that have consumed me more than once, for more than 30 minutes, and some for many years. Some I've even lost sleep over, like the prison one. A lot of them no longer phase me. But some will still grab hold of my brain, like the prison one. (Prison really scares me.)

• Fainting in public and being robbed or rubbed.
• Being stalked by someone and how ineffective a restraining order would be.
• Marrying someone and having them lie to me about their identity or plot to kill me like in a Lifetime movie.
• Going to a foreign country and being accused of drug smuggling and going to jail like in "Brokedown Palace."
• Falling accidentally from a great height and people think it's suicide.
• Losing my shoes and having to walk home barefoot.
• Being swept away in a tsunami because I don't have enough upper-body strength to hold on to anything.
• Being accused of or framed for a crime I didn't commit.
• Going to prison.
• Drowning alone.
• Falling off a cruise ship and surviving in the ocean for several days before dying.
• Having my drink drugged in a bar.
• Dying from mass influenza and plague.
• Dying from or witnessing a mass and coordinated bird attack
• Being held captive and tortured, specifically involving fingernails and teeth.
• Being held at gunpoint and saying something stupid and getting shot.
• Being in a coma like in "Diving Bell and Butterfly" and only able to communicate by blinking, but no one realizes.
• Having everyone else think I'm insane but I think I'm totally sane.
• Being committed to a mental institution when I really am sane.
• Having all telecommunication networks down and no way to contact my family.* 
• Leaving my work laptop on the metro.
• Choking alone.
• Falling in shower alone.
• Falling and breaking my front teeth. 
• Being at the Zoo when animals break out of their enclosure and then they attack me. Or animals escaping from the National Zoo and running the 2 or so miles to my apartment and attacking me.

*This one is actually quite serious and outlined in terrifying detail at the Spy Museum as a potential terrorist attack. With no computers, Internet, power, etc., we'd have no ATMs or phones. So, parents, we need a plan: I'll come to NC. I know you're probably thinking that I have a terrible sense of direction and would end up in New York, but I'd realize it once I got to Maryland, and would turn around then.

Long live the anxious!

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Daily Mail, for validating 27 years of anxiety-riddled freak outs, crazy spells, panic attacks, and crying jags. Apparently all the worrying I thought for sure would kill me before 40, might, just might, make me live longer. The hyper-vigilant state I call my life -- where at any second I expect a gun-wielding stranger to attack me or a metro train to jump the tracks -- might actually be keeping me alive. (Though that doesn't explain the stress ulcer currently residing on my gums.)

And the idea that being awkward and antisocial might also make me live longer? I'd be dancing for joy in the streets were I not so awkward and antisocial. (And also a truly terrible dancer.)

Now, for a few article highlights.

"A new study by Israeli scientists has discovered that those who avoid close relationships and are more anxious are better at sensing danger than those who are more secure."
Can I print this on a business card and distribute on dates? "I avoid close relationships in order to better sense danger. So, really, it's not you, it's me. As in, it's me trying to prevent a shark from devouring you."

 "Between 50 and 60 per cent of us are secure; avoidant and anxious types make up the remaining portion of the population in equal parts."
Wait. A. Minute. There is no way in hell 50 to 60 percent of the population is "secure." No. Way. In. Hell.

"Scientists believe that being anxious and avoidant actually boosts levels of self-dependence.

'Someone who is avoidant, with respect to attachment, is likely to value his or her self-sufficiency more than others. They are uncomfortable depending on others, opening up to them, or having others depend on them,' R. Chris Fraley, an associate psychology professor at the University of Illinois, told the site."
Anxious and avoidant=independence. That's really all I needed to know.

"'Someone who is anxious is generally less confident than others that their loved ones will be responsive and available during times of duress.'"
No funny joke because it's true that this is an actual anxious thought I've had and it's just really sad. However, considering how many of my loved ones are also emotional basketcases, I'm actually more confidence after this article that they have my back.

"The new data goes against the grain in terms of choosing social groups, Fraley told the site: 'If I were in a position to choose my friends from scratch, I would probably choose people who are relatively secure and well-adjusted.'"
Disagree. I like my friends to be just as much, if not more, fucked up than I am. No one likes normal, well-adjusted friends. Unless you are normal and well adjusted and, in that case, you're probably boring.

"Rather, the study...shows that, far from being an awkward addition to a social group and despite their insecurity, 'highly anxious and avoidant people have the potential to contribute to group dynamics in beneficial ways -- especially with respect to detecting and reacting to threats that put everyone in the group at risk,' Fraley said."
Do you hear that, friends? For every rambling, irrationally anxious email I send, that's one less dangerous situation you have to fear because I'm on it.

Have to run and get to bed so I can have anxiety dreams or, as I'm now calling them, life-lengthening rehearsals.

Flowchart of Worry

This handy flowchart was posted on the Twitter of author Karyn Bosnak this morning. (Though she isn't the creator.) It's a nice concept, of course, but another one of those things that looks good in theory, but in practice, I'm just not buying.

The more I stared at and thought about it, the more I wanted to add my own arrows with questions and solutions. To be honest, I don't know why I didn't think of this before, a flowchart for worry! I mean, it's really quite genius. When it's time to freak out about something, just pull the little laminated chart from your purse and follow the steps. It will significantly speed up the freak out process because everyone knows following a plan is way better than just winging it. (What is this "just winging it," anyway, it's like a foreign language to me.) Of course the steps should be customized, not sure everyone freaks out to a soundtrack of U2. (Though you should, it does wonders.)



Basically, all worry roads lead to calming the eff down. (Sorry for the harsh language, but those are the actual words I repeat over and over to myself when worrying; it's a vital step of my process.)