"Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom."
- Søren Kierkegaard
Anxiety arises from the inherent freedom of human existence.
The freedom of self-awareness, reflection, and choice, albeit liberating, can also be disorienting and overwhelming.
It’s 22:13 Central European time and the solar eclipse has just finished it’s pass through North America, and I’ve an eye on the pre-cycling metrics for the Large Hadron Collider that’s preparing to fire just under five thousand miles away, sometime in the near future. Why? I’m not entirely sure. I don’t think they will cause anything that will be remotely felt all the way over here. I’m not paying attention to the NASA launch that occurred earlier. I promise I’m not a conspiracy theorist. But I am curious.
And I’m not much at all worried about the alignment of these scientific and astral happenings like social media would lead us to believe everyone else is. It’s been a chill day. I’m not worried about any earthquakes, I don’t think a portal is opening up. I’m running a long meeting with a team of colleagues over Zoom in a bit and I’m getting ready for that.
But I am not devoid of anxiety. I’m grateful that I’ve never really been susceptible to the collective anxiousness that seems to permeate our culture these days – you know, the worry that things are falling apart, that the world will end, that wars will start. No, I tend to keep my stresses aimed inward, I guess I do still have some main character tendencies, I’m working on that.
But I still deal with a lot of anxiety, I’ve by no means “figured this all out”, it comes and goes, and lately it’s manifesting in my dating life. I’ve mentioned before – it’s a trainwreck – that I’m considered an anxious-avoidant attachment-type, and I have a lot of work to do to reorganize that process of perception, and get a grip over how it shows up in my life, but lately I’m empowered by a growing awareness, and that progress is something I’m grateful for.
But damn, I walk the line between love and limerence whenever that emotion seems to arise, and it often leaves a bitter taste in someone’s mouth by the end of it. Like, I started putting myself back out there a couple of months ago after a six month celibacy stint, which was good for the spirit but also taxing because of the loneliness and lack of intimacy. But I was feeling solid so I got back on an app and was fortunate enough to land a number of dates, and handful of hookups – I get tested for STIs regularly so don’t judge me too harshly there – and it brought up for me how I both have unrealistic standards for dating and tend to use sex as a vice.
In dating, I’m either immediately transfixed by and attracted to someone, or I’m not. Regardless of surface level interest off a digital chat or from a glimpse at photos of the person, I cannot anticipate whether or not I’ll feel that connection until I’m face to face with that person. So, I go on dates, and when nothing arises emotionally from that meeting, I consider giving it another try, or I communicate that I didn’t feel a romantic connection and would prefer to keep things amicably platonic, if anything. Usually, people appreciate the honesty. Sometimes, you get attacked for wasting someone’s time.
In sex, I think it’s the need for validation, for the reassurance that others find me attractive, because I do not feel that for myself. Simple and plain. I’m not even that sexual honestly. My libido isn’t crazy high, it’s more about the dopamine and adrenaline. A lot of unhealthy patterns can arise in my relationship with casual sex and it is never ultimately good for me or my spirit, because I am not able to separate sex from intimacy, nor intimacy from romance or companionship.
I have two “friends with benefits” that I hang out with every so often, but I feel like both of them want something more, and I know in my heart I am not able to reciprocate that authentically. So, I’m metered in my responses and try to maintain clear expectations around what it is we’re really doing, but that just gets harder over time, and like most “friends with benefits”, “situationships”, it will arrive inevitably to a crossroads where we likely need to part ways, if something platonic isn’t manageable. And throughout juggling these entaglements, I try to continue to go on dates to see if there’s a spark anywhere else, and then this whirlpool of bodies bodies bodies becomes overwhelming and is bound to hurt somebody’s feelings, hell, it already has – mine, and others.
Just over a month ago, I went out with a guy who I was curious about because he also liked basketball – not a common find in the queer community. Apart from him ignoring my mentioning of my dog passing, he awkwardly avoided splitting the tab for dinner, got really drunk off of two drinks, took me to second base at my place, then required a ride home late into the evening. I shouldn’t have hooked up with him, but he was cute despite the lack of any felt romantic connection, and he initiated it. A week later, after traveling and returning, I told him I wanted to express that I think he’s awesome, but I didn’t think we should continue dating, though I’d be happy to continue on as friends. He responded by telling me I should remove myself from the dating pool and seek therapy, and that I’m embarrassment to myself.
Jokes on him, I’m already in therapy. I haven’t talked to anyone about his blow up, but part of me is certain he’s talked about how I’m a terrible person to his circle. I have to continually practice reminding myself that it doesn’t matter, that I cannot feel badly for speaking my truth, that I didn’t do anything wrong.
BUT, part of me also highlights my role in causing this volatile reaction in another person, and I feel guilty. He wanted a further connection, and I rejected that, and that bummed him out, and it was hard for me to wholly empathize with that because I just didn’t carry that same weight of emotion towards the situation.
I say all this because, after being back out on the map for a little while, I went on countless dates and only felt two sparks. The first was only seeking a hookup and even though I liked him, a lot, it was obvious that feeling wasn’t going to be reciprocated in the same way, so we stopped hooking up. And that was months ago.
The second happened last week, and now I feel the karmic ricochet of the flip side of the experience.
We met on the beach, and he had a calm energy like the still afternoon waters of the Puget Sound we perused around. The conversation flowed, laughter and relatability abundant, and I was elated. We both had obligations for the evening and had to part ways after a few hours, and it pained me to say goodbye, but I was ecstatic that we parted ways with a kiss that we both kept returning to, giggling in the streets by the pier with our matching cars and common scars.
I told him how I felt that night, and he seemed to reciprocate it. He had a trip that would take him out of town for a week, leaving the next day. I sent him a playlist for his travels, and I haven’t heard from him since.
It’s subtly tearing me apart.
I don’t know if it’s limerence, or if I really feel like he could be someone for me, but I haven’t been able to get him out of my mind, and as each day passes the soul crushing recognition that I just haven’t been able to slip into his has gradually melted me down into an anxious puddle of uncertainty. I don’t think it’s limerence, but I’m certain it’s indicative of my attachment style, and I know there’s a lot of correlation there.
My good friend tells me I’m overthinking things, that he’s probably playing it cool, and that he’s likely distracted by his travels and time with friends.
I thank him for his reassurance, and ignore all of it entirely. I’m thinking about wanting to invite him to a show I was gifted tickets to, about plans for next weekend, about just saying hi and hearing a hi back.
But the radio silence has me wrecked, beckoning the willingness to let go and let God, while rerouting all my thinking inward to explain why he probably lost interest. Now it’s not just about losing his interest, it’s why I’ll lose anyone’s interest who I’m interested in, while concurrently feeling swarmed by interest from others that I’m not mutually attracted to. It’s not that I need it, it’s just that I yearn for a mutual enthusiasm, I hope to find someone who keeps me stuck in their mind as much as I do theirs.
I mentioned the flip side of the script – I have no shortage of experience of being stuck in the minds of other men while they are absent from mine. I am getting a stark and first-hand reminder of the emotional disruption I can cause in others, without even being aware of it. I recognize right now that I can cause pain in others by not reciprocating these emotions, because I’m experiencing a tinge of pain in not feeling reciprocation in my current situation. It hurts, and it makes me feel like shit that I’ve caused this in many other people over the years. But I also cannot control the heart, nor can I expect anyone else to.
But then I feel like an ass for complaining or being too particular. Like, you’re single as fuck, who are you to be so picky? So I tell myself, well, you’re fucking awesome. You’re a hot mess, but a beautiful and exciting one, it’s not your fault.
I hesitate to accept that this is only limerence. I know what magnetizes me to a person, I know when I think something can work, energetically, and I know that it’s rare. What’s even more rare is when that person happens to feel that same way about me.
"Our anxiety does not come from thinking about the future, but from wanting to control it."
- Kahlil Gibran
Is it a control thing? Do I just see someone I can actually see myself with and demand an ability to control that, to get what I want and dictate my path ahead as I currently see fit? That’s tremendously selfish and not what I want to be about, but I know that is in large part subconscious behavior that is rooted in and indicative of some toxic childhood trauma shit I still need to sort through.
"You can't always control what goes on outside. But you can always control what goes on inside."
- Wayne Dyer
At the moment I’m terrified that I cannot control either – I can’t control his feelings or reciprocity, or his communication style or his expectations, nor can I control my ability to lessen my grip on a need for understanding, my willingness to lean towards acceptance and patience. All I’m doing is thinking thinking thinking, and it’s fucking me up. There’s that meme about the most important piece of dating advice you’ll ever need;
If they like you, you’ll know.
If they don’t, you’ll be confused.
In the first three days, I felt like he liked me. In the past three days, I’ve felt confused. But ultimately I’m scripting narratives around something I can’t know until I do, and it’s just bleeding stress into my daily experience. I’m lethargic, I’m numb, I’m distracted, and I don’t think it’s healthy.
I’m still sober, and that’s a fucking gift, for real. But even then it goes to show me that even in sobriety I’m still crazy, I’m still a chaotic mess, I’m still a broken person, but I’m far more well equipped to takes steps to combat that. It’s a battle, and I do not feel like I’m winning at all.
My Instagram algorithm either picked up on this spiral, or anticipated it, or the mental health content is always there and I just haven’t taken to it as much as I have these past few days – but I saw a video that I really appreciated and I keep trying to remind myself of this mantra. This lady said, there are six words that you need to repeat to yourself to cut off these negative thought spirals that send you into scripted narratives;
“Maybe it will all work out.”
What if it all works out? What if he’s playing it cool too, if he’s distracted by his travels and wants to wait until he’s back in the city to continue the conversation? What if he feels the same way I do? What if he’s actually just not the person for me, and in this state of uncertainty a door to an even brighter spark beckons? What if next month I’m dating the man of my dreams? What if it’s not him? Maybe it will all work out. Isn’t that embracing His will? Isn’t that acceptance, contentedness, inner peace?
"The greatest weapon against stress is our ability to choose one thought over another."
- William James
I can’t control the fact that thoughts are going to occur. My brain is a rampant robust fucking motor and there’s no stopping it once it get’s going. I definitely feel at times that I cannot control that. But I often lose sight of the fact that I can still chose which thoughts I entertain, and some thoughts can quell these spirals far more effectively than others, some thoughts will ignite my spirit while others deplete it. I can’t control that I’m going down a run, but I can still choose which one I go down.
Maybe it will all work out, and maybe I can be grateful that this uncommon spark that I feel I never encounter is actually more common than I give it credit for? I’m just looking for that spark that reciprocates, that mirrors, that shares in excitement, and that looks different for everyone. But I have to get out of a place of needing it. If I keep seeking, vying for control, attempting to dictate the script, it will continue to evade me. Let go, let Him.
And that’s balanced out by the lunacy that I miss him, unfathomably, senselessly, after one afternoon date by the beach. I’m fatigued by the transfixion of my desire to do nothing but lay with him and explore his poetic makeup, his cloudy subtleties, his ethereal individuality that I feel rightly magnetized towards. How is someone I’ve spent barely a few hours with a knife I willingly turn inside myself? I find myself commonly without longing, usually unconscious and saturated in neutrality and apathy, and maybe I only now feel alive in the recognition that I long for him.
My maniacism is Kafka-esque and there is abject beauty in the chaos. In all chaos lies a cosmos and above all else I demand serenity. The serenity to accept the things I cannot change. Courage to change the things I can. The wisdom to know the difference.
God, I feel better when I just get this all out on wax. I expose my inanity and insanity in these pages but I fear not. I am aware of it and I am working on it. I am not alone in it, I am human, I am true and good-natured, I am broken, I am a loving spirit. I need process and in this process is a lightness that I’m not as used to. I’ll keep stepping towards it.
I’m told as of late that my aura is pink. I’ll take that gladly knowing that in the story I was scripting I would’ve bet money it was opaque and vantablack. My brain sometimes doesn’t want to give myself a chance. But I am not my brain, I am not my body, I can be kinder to my spirit, and I’ll commit to that.
What’s craziest is that if I do continue talking to this guy I’m hung up on, I’ll have sifted through this odyssey of emotion whereas he’s probably not thought twice of it. I’m not sure how formidable of a starting point it is. Someone listening is probably screaming – RED FLAGS! He should run away and never look back!
Maybe, yeah. I don’t know. I’m trying, that’s all I can do.
What’s funny is that after putting this episode together – he did finally text me. I’m still very vague on his level of interest, but I am happy to hear from him, and I feel like I’m processing a lot of these emotions in a way that’s allowing me to be far more level headed and realistic about the situation and next steps, than if I’d just kept ruminating over it in my head all day. For that, I am grateful.
Thanks for being here, sorry for making today all about myself. I’m just trying to do better. I’ll keep trying. I only ask for grace, primarily from myself, ideally from all.
Love.