Nervous Nelly

It is slowly becoming clear to me that the rest of the world may not be quite as anxious and neurotic as me. I should've realised this a long time ago, but I was too busy worrying about crap to notice (ho ho). I was 25 before I could watch a horror film and not imagine it was somehow going to happen to me, 30 before I stopped sweeping my dearly-departed Granddad's walking stick around my wardrobe before retiring to bed, in case a lunatic was hiding in there (when clearly the only mental in the room was me). I am already depressed and nervous about how scared I'll be about dying when I'm an old lady. I have to be soppy to M before bed not only because I love him *pauses for mass vomiting to subside* but also in case he dies in the night - quite how and why this would happen to a fit, healthy young man in his late twenties I do not know, but that's irrelevant  because I once read a book where this occurred so it must be considered as part of My Long List of Freaky Shit That Could Theoretically Happen (in fact, just writing 'fit, healthy, young...' has brought me out in a cold sweat, in case there's some black-humoured, piss-taking deity out there wanting to punish Atheists like me in sick ways. I know that's what I'd do if I was some some sort of Supreme Overlord).

When I am ill or just experiencing some weird, unusual, vague physical pains or twinges, I mentally write a tacky article for Take A Break mag or one of its ilk, going into lurid, gruesome and sensationalised detail about my horrific and freakish demise from some weird, unheard-of condition or bizarre accident. I have just discovered that no-one else does this and am confused - how do you cope with the panic you feel over every little thing? Wait, you mean you don't feel panic over every little thing? How does THAT work? I must be one of the few people who doesn't laugh at Woody Allen's supreme nervous nebbishness (nebbicity?) in his earlier, good films, because I think he's being entirely reasonable and, in fact, not worrying about things enough.

How I hate people who can be spontaneous, who can think 'that'll be a laugh' and just do things. I have been a massive loser work-wise because I second-guess and fret myself out of making even the mildest of professional risks. Or even just 'giving things a go'. Or even bothering to apply for things I could easily do. Or even doing anything other than moaning 'what's the point?' to myself or those (un)lucky enough to be enamoured of me. And how I hate the phrases 'just relax and it'll happen' or 'stop worrying about it' - HOW, exactly, do you stop worrying about stuff when it's your default setting? Casual phrases like that not only make me worry even more about needing to not worry but make me seethe with rage over their blasé attitude to life and my inability to relax.

Recently, I was given Temazepam to calm me down before a minor op (a procedure I prepared for by obsessively and tearfully discussing hysterical 'what-ifs' with M and my Mum and sobbing in the middle of the night imagining my freak death under sedation or them finding something terminal. I also wrote M a goodbye love letter although managed to tell myself I was being a twat enough not to also write a rudimentary will and jot down all my online passwords lest he needed to close accounts down or tell online pals the sad news). It was less than 2 minutes before I was then given the general anaesthetic but mein gott, it was fan-fucking-tastic. I didn't feel spaced-out or drugged or anything 'altered' - I just felt... calm. Relaxed. Totally unanxious. It was wonderful. It was freaky. It was WRONG.

But I can't stop thinking about those 90 seconds of peace. Not that I want to get hooked on jellies, because I just don't have an addictive personality and besides, it would such a naff, 90s thing to do, but because it was, well, nice. 'Wrong' for me, but in a right way. Perhaps those absolute bastards who don't squander their adrenal reserves away via dry-eyed insomniac panic about absolute triva might be onto something. I really want to be less anxious about everything. I'm going to try to not be so neurotic and worrisome about everything, which is now making me worry about how much change this will involve and how, exactly, I will achieve this. How will I manage to do things without the excuse of anxiety to hold me back? How will I fill a mental void free of incessant fretting? Will being more laid-back ruin my perceptive and analytical skills if my mind is floating around on a chilled-out cloud of kittens and cupcakes? And how will I internally reassure myself over genuine worries? Being anxious and neurotic, in a weird way, is very soothing and acts as a buffer against life's blows - if you're imaging you've got necrotising fasciitis every time you gets pins and needles (disclaimer: I'm not actually this bad) then whatever shit life throws at you really isn't so bad in comparison.

Also, everyone hates happy cunts. They're almost as bad as born-again Christians... if they're not one already. I associate a lack of anxiety as a lack of intelligence, because both are a result of not thinking deeply. I guess I just need to find the line between ignorance and getting things in perspective. Watch this space.

By E - even writing the initial of my name makes me start worrying that unhinged strangers will work out who I am and come hunt me down and turn my life into a hellish Serial Killer Nightmare. Then I remember that there's probably less than 10 people will read this anyway, 99% of whom know me already and I can 'relax' with the lesser worry that this blog is crap and a failure and I'm a massive, talentless loser. I have a long, long way to go, don't I?