Anxiety

Leave a comment

Anxiety is never a pretty experience with which to deal. To properly understand anxiety, perhaps we should make a quick definition of it.

Anxiety is not synonymous with fear; rather, anxiety may be classified as a type of fear. The difference between outright fear and anxiety is that when one is afraid, there is a specific source of the fear; one knows what one is afraid of. One fears a snake biting one, for instance.

Anxiety, on the other hand, is a fear that has no specific source, or the source is generalized and not well-understood.

Anxiety may also be in the realm of worry; for instance, one worries and experiences worrying without knowing what exactly is causing the worry.

This is the world into which I’ve been plunged over the past few days. Whether the anxiety is a mere process of irrational psychological elements or is an intuitive perception that something is wrong with me or someone else is unknown at this point, and I can say that I really wish I knew what was going on.

Or perhaps I don’t really wish I knew what was going on!

Sometimes, when one experiences an inexplicable emotion, it is because the feelings have been carried on the current of humanity and brought to one. Someone you care about is upset or worried, and you somehow pick up on this things, even non-locally.

Maybe there is more to be said that simply can’t be stated aloud, and that’s fine by me.

I pray that all things are well, though.

(Author’s Note: I wrote this blog sometime last week when my anxiety was pretty high. Since then, I’ve come down from it, but this blog was still worth posting.)

Beaux


Advertisements

The Experience of Identity Loss

1 Comment

Under everyday circumstances, we talk about the loss of one’s identity. Often this is tied to something such as the loss of one’s career or a partner, something that definitely put you in the realm of social affairs and distinguished you in relation to other people.

However, the week before last, while journeying with Tyler and my friends somewhere, I had a more frightening version of losing my identity.

Without warning, suddenly I was quite confused as to who I was and how it was that I came to be who I am. No doubt, I could identify things such as my name, age, all the usual things; instead, there was something more crucial that suddenly seemed odd and strange and completely out of place in the scheme of reality.

This is certainly an “awareness of being aware,” a strange state of affairs where one’s own awareness stands in contradistinction to one’s personality and identity, a separation of Mind and Name might be a way to explain it better.

The first time I recall ever having such an experience as this was when I was a child, sitting in the bathtub. Suddenly the same oddness and out-of-placeness of myself hit me, of who I was, of my distinction as a person as opposed to other people in terms of individuality.

I do not mean to state that I was unaware that others exist; of course I was aware of that, and of course I am now aware that others are aware. This is a wholly different experience, one that is confusing at best and likely anxiety-provoking at worse.

Perhaps one might call it an awareness of being who one is. Perhaps it is the remnant of a child-like impression of who I was, an outside imposed notion of who I was as opposed to who I really am on the inside.

I realize that stating all these things is quite subtle, and only those who have been through the experience can begin to fathom and relate on what I mean.

The truth is that experiences that others have not had, perceptions and differing degrees of awareness, are ultimately the very “business” I’m in, for want of better terms. Mysticism revolves around this sort of ineffability.

I do want to make it clear that what happened was not the same as the disappearance of the Ego, which is the sudden and blatant absence of the “I” that normally resounds most loudly in the mind. That, too, is an experience that mystics all the time mention, and yet until one encounters it for one’s self, it sounds like pure rubbish.

Perhaps someone out there can give insight into what exactly this experience means or refer me to others who have had it.

Beaux