Yesterday, my anxiety got the best of me.
I missed an event that I had talked myself into looking forward to because I merely didn't want to put up with all of the people. Instead, I ate a late lunch, fixed a cocktail or two, watched a documentary on the Black Panther Party, began reading Huey Newton's Revolutionary Suicide, and went to bed around 7pm. I missed posting and the event.
I don't feel bad about the event. I mostly feel defeated by anxiety. I feel defeated by New York City. I feel defeated by this acute loneliness that comes with this calling on my life. I've come to the conclusion that I'd much rather be alone in my home than to be lonely amongst a crowd of people--to be sheltered and away from than to be bombarded by stimuli.
On days like yesterday, I often wonder about who I am becoming...about who this woman is who has caved in on herself. And I'm not sure I dislike her. She's quiet. She keeps to herself. She minds her business. She has less drama in her life. She reads books before bed instead of scrolling social media feeds. I think I like her. But I worry about her, as well, because she misses events and she doesn't meet new people and she dislikes New York in a way she has never disliked New York and she hides.
I'm trying to be patient with the process of becoming. It feels like a chore some days. But even as I'm riddled with anxiety and anger and alone-ness I didn't choose, I'm forcing myself to believe that there is something beautiful coming--that God is making something beautiful of me and my circumstances.
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