The Saint Johns Wort is blooming. The fireflies are blinking at night. The White Tailed fawn is bedded down in the goldenrod. The fritillary dance across the grasses. The Eastern Cottontail takes a dirt bath in the brush. The blackberries ripen on the vine. The Brown Bats flitter across the evening sky. The Eastern Box Turtle digs a hole for her eggs. The cry of the Great Blue Heron echos as it makes its way to the river. The scarlet tanager feasts within my thriving habitat. I am vindicated.
Yet, no matter how much I crave this wild state I am aware of how messy it is to the majority of onlookers. At times I feel self conscious, and defensive. I even contemplate efforts to return my property to the standard American lawn.
But where would all the life go? This conflict, this debate, between how things should be done, and what is the right thing to do eats at me. Not just my yard, my property, but on all things, all matters or importance. What is the right way for me to be?
Lately, I have been finding myself outside tearing down vines in a manner that burns my muscles and leaves my hands raw, an act of sublimation. This isn’t fair, just make it stop. Am I crazy? At least a little, that’s for sure. There is internal screaming as I rip the well established bittersweet vines from the earth. Don’t come back.
They show you a diagram illustrating anger as an iceberg, highlighting all that we can’t see hidden below the surface. This is true, but an iceberg is just inaccurate to me – it should be a volcano.
My magma is thick with hurt, frustration, grief, and anxiety. I haven’t learned to let the pressure ease out so it builds. It’s need for escape intensifies, the tectonic plates of my life shift and collide, and I feel the impending explosion. Without a release I am sure to erupt. Anger is not an iceberg, its a volcano.
The simple fact that I am trying to fix the anger/iceberg analogy is laughable. The whole premise of this prompt are the words I can’t unhear: “Chrissy, not everything is a problem that you need to fix.” Not spoken in a gentle way, but in a way that translated as a stern warning. Spoken out of frustration with a hint of contempt.
It’s the truth though. I do act that way. I do it too much. I worry. I skip ahead. I scout the trail. I provide an onslaught of unsolicited solutions to problems that may not be even real. I consider as many scenarios as possible and try to get in front of them all. All in the name of wanting everything to be ok, for everyone to be safe, to create predictability, a set of rules, for calmness, and for peace, and hopefully, so I don’t loose sight of the thing, or forget. It’s taking out insurance on the fact that I care for or love you, that I am responsible, trustworthy, and reliable. You can count on me. Until you can’t. The cumulative affect of my efforts is quite the opposite, and over a long enough time the anxiety will take me down, and you’ll come along with it.
The solution has always been to create distance. To live reclusively. Cultivate a space and a life where the anxiety stays alone with me and keeps you out of it. I’m not out to destroy you, but maybe I will. Give it time.
I can be a good time in small doses, small enough to stay present. I am not good however, at “Zen and the Art of ‘Relationship’ Maintenance”. Friendships drop off because I don’t stay in touch. Romances meet their demise because I either want too much or not enough and that all depends on the day. But life without companionship is not what I want either. It’s a challenging thing to find the balance between the desire to be seen, to be touched, to be heard, and the longing to remain wild and free.
The friends that have lasted for me are the ones that have found a way to forgive my inconsistencies, maybe even over look them, and at best appreciate them. Perhaps its because we relate in this way. We provide a metaphorical pat on the head to each other, an “everything is ok”. It’s an absolute gift to laugh about it. Self deprecation and sarcasm is welcome here.
A series of t-shirt slogans have crossed my mind that I think would be helpful:
Be clear, concise and direct so that I know the rules.
Will ask ridiculous questions for clarity.
I already forgot, please remind me of your name.
Despite the anxiety, I actually showed up to have a good time.
Unfortunately, to assimilate, the method I utilize for showing up and being consistent with others is letting my anxiety take the wheel. It’s the only way I arrive on time, remember to text back, initiate a project, meet a deadline, send an email, say Happy Birthday, get the job done, etc. Just a constant “shit shit shit shit, fuck fuck fuck fuck, don’t forget don’t forget don’t forget” in my head all day.
I don’t want to be this way. I really don’t.
This past week, in order to get a better understanding of how my brain works, I went through a neuropsychological evaluation. There was a high level focus on working memory and executive functioning. At the end of the testing, the evaluator, a PhD who has been in private practice since before I was born, an assistant clinical professor at an ivy league university, who stated they had performed this tests hundreds of times before, ended the day by stating that my case was interesting, and they were probably just as confused as I was.
At least it’s not just me.
I anticipate getting a report with the “results” in a few weeks. I am not sure how I feel about any of it because I am not likely to get any sort of answer that is going to fix anything. At best, I think I will find peace in knowing what I can and cannot change about myself. I cannot keep trying to change myself if I am just not a certain way. I can’t keep the bar high, when it’s really not something obtainable.
I want peace and I want happiness. I want to remove from my life what does not work for me.
While I wait for a potential answer – I am working on cleaning up shop and letting go of what causes me stress. As with most things, when the pendulum swings, it over corrects. I may be looking for a release but at times I fear it’s more like abandonment. If you have a problem, it’s not mine, that’s yours. I feel for you, I do, but I got to sit this out. It’s for the best.
Instead I am lovingly focusing on my own biggest problem: me.
The work ahead of me of course runs parallel to the book I’m reading: How to Love a Forest by Ethan Tapper. The author speaks to his experience as a forester, and how he worked to bring a sick and seemingly hopeless forest back to a functional state. Restoring the native habitat and reviving a thriving ecosystems. Humans, he illustrates, are a keystone species. We have direct control over the land and ultimately it outcomes. It takes hard work, but it’s not impossible. It is also our responsibility.
So I am taking on the task of clearing out the forest in my mind. Not all thoughts belong there, even if on principle they are supposed to be good. Maybe, they are just not good for me. I will clear the mess to let the sunlight in, and re-wild my mind, and set myself free.
—
This piece was originally written in 2025 and I was not sure if it was done so I held on to it; but I left time to pass. The ice has melted quite a bit since then and the lava has cooled – the soil is fertile.
-C-
Song recommendation: Love is Everywhere – Wilco
The Fox & The Peregrine 