I have this really fantastic doctor on the Upper East Side. Let's call him Dr. Tom. Dr. Tom keeps me grounded. Very grounded. I've seen a host of psychologists and psychotherapists and psychiatrists in my day. And I must say that I've never met one quite like Tom.
I actually don't know what his classification is exactly, but he seems to talk about neuroscience quite a bit. Never one for science class (except for a brief fascination with physics) my taking to Tom is quite unexpected. However, when he talks about the human body and the physiological causes and effects of anxiety and its partners in crime, I find comfort in the tangibility of it all. Lots of words, complicated sentences, am I making sense? How to explain this? Learning about the actual science of it all, makes me feel like my anxiety is something outside myself--something that is changeable--something that doesn't define who I am.
So last week, after a mini-meltdown, Dr. Tom asked me to make two lists. Comparative lists, if you will. The first was to be a list of all those things that make up who I am. The next was all those things that make up who I am when anxiety is sittin' pretty in the driver's seat. Easy enough.
As this week passed things would come to me in spurts. I'd be on the subway and think how when anxiety is around I don't like to sit on the train. Or take pictures. I spend money on silly things that I can't afford (like trashy magazines) and I avoid the gym at all costs. I sleep longer than usual and become lazy. Anxiety manifests itself in a million little ways so the latter list was quite long. But I never really took the time to fill out the former--the list of those things that define me in my truest and purest state. But why need I? I know those things, I didn't have time to write them all down.
Dr. Tom pounced on this--said that perhaps I didn't write the list because I wasn't actually sure I knew the things that make me me. And that inability to identify is a breeding ground where anxiety festers before it slithers in and fills the cracks.
But I guess the real problem wasn't my inability to identify certain characteristics--it was my unwillingness to even try.
So here I go, giving it a go. Here's my list of those things that make me who I am. Because at the end of the day, there are some things I know. Tangible. Tangible things, so that when anxiety attempts to knock me over I can simply hold fast to my list, laugh, and say, "weebles wobble but they don't fall down." Me being the weeble of course...
The sound of John Legend's voice tickles my fancy. Okay, okay...so maybe it just plain turns me on. But not in the way you're thinking, but more in the i'll-dance-on-the-subway-platform-if-i-want-toand a this-smile-ain't-cuz-of-any-guykind of way. Most especially the song "It Don't Have to Change" (Times is hard and things are a'changin'/I pray to God that we can remain the same/All I'm tryin' to say is our love don't have to change/ No it don't have to change)
I clean house best, right before I go away on vacation.
I'm always going to splash about in rain puddles.
I'm a Bruce Springsteen kinda gal. Interpret that as you will.
I love wearing baseball caps. And I love history.
I'm always up for a game of kickball, capture the flag, foosball, or an all-night Super Mario Brothers' marathon. Sega, anyone?
I love to ski. Fast. And the man I marry better be able to keep up.
I like pizza and cheeseburgers and my idea of a perfect date involves one of the aforementioned food items.
There's nothing like going to the ballpark to see America's pastime. Though, some day I'd like to take in the World Cup.
I think I might elope to Rome.
I want to see the world. All of it. Prague, Mumbai, Morocco, Singapore. I want to live all across Europe. I want to act on the West End--then I'll get to wear galoshes to and from work every day.
One of my strongest fantasies is that of my lover singing "Isn't she lovely" while wearing only boxer briefs and socks (I know, I know, it sounds a little Risky Business, but maybe Tom Cruise actually did one thing right, albeit a very long time ago--doesn't Valkyrie look awful?).
I want Yo-Yo Ma to play at my wedding. Impractical? I refuse to be restricted by such labels.
I cannot play the game by anyone else's rules. I just can't. Even if I try, my body rebels.
I love to dance around my apartment. And the wood floors are very conducive to sock-sliding.
I'm a Libra which means my moral compass is always working overtime. Often to my own detriment.
I hold on to things that any normal person would forgive and forget. I have a memory like a steel trap.
I've always wanted glasses. I think they're super sexy.
I'm getting the sense that this is getting to be too much all at once, but I'm sure more will follow as it comes.
On a separate note, I got to catch Twilight with my lovelies. And I hadn't realized how much I've missed my friends. I laughed through the entire thing, but didn't feel so bad cuz Sarah talked through the entire thing. This didn't stop her from shooting dirty looks my way for my incessant giggles (oh, I have, have, have missed her being all the way in Chicago).