The best feeling in the world is when I stop worrying.
It’s a rare moment. I’m worried all of the time, even when I’m happy and things are great in my life. And, no shocker, things are great in my life and I am happy. So of course I worry. I worry about my narrative, as if I am a character in a novel. Characters always confront conflict and peaceful pages don’t really account for an interesting story. Where is the conflict going to come from next? It’s a bit of a skewed to look at things, I know, but I fortunately think this writing trick that I do can lead to a bit of magic from this harried mind. I can put it to use. Unfortunately, I haven’t been as motivated to put it to use lately (and I have been busy with balancing the elements of my life, as one does). So the thoughts fester more than I am used to. It’s like… I feel like I’m a wound-up spring, even when I go to bed. I can feel something in the back of my head buzzing, some scene or memory playing on repeat. Maybe it’s a thought. Maybe it’s a feeling. Something is always there. It’s heightened when I interact with people, even with people I am extremely comfortable with and know me very well.
It eats at me. It eats at them.
I had a great moment last week when I was walking home and I was in a good mood, yes, but then something miraculous happened when I was listening to this song. I just focused on the playful synths and bouncing vocals and I just felt elated at how happy the music was making me feel. I was looking forward to just relaxing that night and eating food and drinking some light beer (because I have been good about getting healthier). I didn’t feel uncomfortable in Jersey City like how I used to feel and I was feeling like our apartment was becoming my home, too.
The little biting thoughts disappeared, and a smile came across my face. I started to feel tears well up against the cold air, and it felt so refreshing.
Then a cool wave washed over my head, a feeling of nothingness. As if I was cleansing my brain, massaging it from all of the anxiety and negative thoughts. I felt like I was in a blanket, like I had put on warm socks and it was my mind that was feeling these sensations. I had an image in my mind of a beautifully lit candle next to a rainy windowsill. Of a Christmas tree lit in the middle of the night next to the couch.
I think I started crying silently, happily, to myself because this is how “normal” people feel. This is what people who don’t have reoccurring repetitions feel every day. And boy, now I can understand how they can be carefree, how they can let go of things and go on their day. And I started crying silently, happily, because I… I can feel that way too. I can do it.
I turned the corner and the memories of chores I needed to do (dishes, trash) crept back into a small corner of my mind and the fuzziness of my mind was reverting back to its normal prickliness. But I wasn’t sad or disappointed. I know who I am and I know it’s a struggle with those thoughts right now.
I wasn’t sad or disappointed because it gave me hope. It gave me strength. It gave me a reason to believe I could feel like that, not just for two minutes, but for all the time. I could feel like that one day all day long.