I can't stand it. I can't stand how it nibbles into people, how it slowly starts to dictate, to shape, to control, to drive.

I've been at its mercy for years without even realizing it. And it took months after that to learn to manage and work with it, rather than try to ignore it. It's a part of me, for better or worse, and the hardest thing I've had to do lately is make friends with it, to welcome it into my life and take away its power.

I'd like to think it's worked. I've not felt this at peace with my monsters ever. I feel young again. I walk like I used to: with my shoulders back, head up, like I own the fucking planet.

But I know I still have to be careful. My anxiety is in check. The anxiety of others: that's the catch. It stirs up the same feelings, but in a more troubling light, a light cast in doubt. There is something about doubt and anxiety: they help each other grow.

So what's really real? The anxiety caused by the doubt, or the doubt caused by anxiety? Have I escaped my twisted world of anxiety only to be caught up in the anxiety of someone else, so distracted by my own positive feelings to see what's actually going on?

I say again, I can't stand anxiety. I can't stand how it nibbles into people, how it slowly starts to dictate, to shape, to control, to drive. And how it can spread.

But I know what it looks like now. I've felt the suffering it can cause for too long. I'm not giving it that power again.

I like who I am. I like what I am. And if that's intimidating, good. It keeps the riffraff out. I used to think everyone else was in touch with something in themselves lacking in me, but it turns out everyone is just as insecure, just as driven by anxious feelings at times. But I'm tired of being the solution to other people's anxiety. I'll be there, I'll help, but I want to make people feel good, not better.

Better comes from within. That's the kind that sticks. People can make you feel good, but only you can make yourself feel better.

I've used my car as a metaphor for my life before, its experience and time with me I liken to my own experiences and time. So a few weeks ago when it was rear-ended, I sympathized. You're just sitting there, minding your own business, when you see something coming up fast with no time or space to do anything other than realize it's happening.

Smash. Pieces everywhere.

There were no injuries, but my car needed a week to be repaired. The rental car, while provided free of charge, was not fun to drive, and worse still, felt joyless in every respect. I missed my car, and I found myself with a renewed interest in doing all the work I always wanted to do on it but never did. Why did I never? No clue.

Blame it on the ADD.

Is the reason why I didn't do something important to understand in the context of me now wanting to do something? How about in the context of my own crash? Of me seeing something coming up fast with no time or space to do anything other than realize it's happening. My smashed car reminded me of what it could be if I only did. Why not my smashed life remind me of the same?

New paint and metal for the car. New paint and mettle for me.