The Anxiety Machine
An autobiographical fairytale
This is a story about healing classism written by the part of me that learned to grind. I personify the many parts of me and this part calls itself, “The Tinkerer.”
For most of my life, I was so full of fear I felt I was drowning in it. I was bright, so I turned this abundant resource into fuel. I used the seemingly endless stream of fear to fuel my daily endeavors, which were slowed down by the weight and inertia of depression.
I learned that I had to I had to transmute the fear into anxiety first. Then, the relentless buzzing movement of anxiety could power the engines of my life.
It was not safe.
Anxiety is a volatile substance that is highly combustible. Explosions took my engines off-line with some regularity. But I persevered. I repaired and tinkered and balanced everything out. Life was this cycle. Power, action, blow out, repair. Power, action, blow out, repair. The only hard part was other people’s judgement and feeling misunderstood. They could never see my genius at work. They mistook me for a weakling. But my machines worked and they were all I had.
They tell you to pull yourself up by your boots straps. If your boots straps are trauma and anxiety, you pull yourself up the best you can.
And so it was. The volatile machine. The highs and lows. The pride and humiliation. The seasons and cycles.
But then everything changed.
After years of trauma therapy, plant medicine, and meditation, my excess stock of anxiety ran dry. There was no more fuel to power my machine.
I was quite befuddled.
My anxiety machine had powered my life since I was four years old. I did not know of other ways to fuel my life. I did not know to consider the possibility of other fuel sources. I did not know how to act. Sometimes I tried to force action and the anxiety flared back up. It did not power my machine, though, it only derailed my progress.
It was a slow process of learning. I ached to get back to the raw power of an anxiety fueled life. Only today did I consider the possibility that the amount of energy I have is a normal amount of human energy. I just need to learn how to use it.
Maybe nothing is wrong.
Maybe this is a life powered by ease.
Maybe that is simply a new kind of life for me.
By The Tinkerer
I 💚 The Tinkerer!