The Good Old Days

These are NOT the "good old days".  At least, I don't think so.  It's really kind of hard to tell.  See, I've had lots of good times in my life, and lots of, let's call them "lulls," where things were okay, but not so much was going on.  Right now seems to be a lull, an in-between time when I'm still learning how to make life work in the circumstances I'm in.  

I've had several Good Old Days-es in my life.  First was college (many people would say highschool, but I never got on real well in highschool.  I had a few good friends, but I feel more like I survived it than thrived in it).  I was active, in good physical shape, did a lot of dating, explored lots of things, discovered that a few drinks now and then could be a good thing indeed.  College was great for my anxiety disorder,  because any responsibility I found too great, I could just ignore.  Sure, my grades weren't the best as a result, but one does the best one can.  I was able to relax when I needed, and do what I had to do.  

Then came "real life" of my early 20s.  Definitely NOT Good Old Days.  Working at a Subway Restaurant (actually several in the local chain), I was stuck with drudgery and confused about where to go in life.  I had no girlfriend, no car, and very little property.  I even ran with all the possessions I could carry for a very brief attempt at life in the Big City (Chicago in this case), before failing to really transition and heading back to my college home town.

But that lead to the Good Old Days of my late 20s and early 30s.  You see, I was back in my element.  I had newfound confidence.  My college friends (the ones who stayed local, anyway) were glad to have me back.  We started going out to clubs a couple nights a month, dancing and getting buzzed.  I started dating again, and got my first office job (out of fast food!  yay!).  And soon, I was engaged, and then married.  Life was good.

Then, my wife went back to school.  I also dabbled in a change of career, going back part time for Fashion Design.  We continued our time with our friends (and now raising our young daughter) for a few more short years.  And then, after my wife graduated, we determined her career prospects were best if we moved somewhere larger.  

Our initial thought was Chicago.  I'd loved my brief time there, and thought it would be really nice to actually reside in Chicago as a professional, in some sort of style rather than as a broke 20-something.  But the cost of living in Chicago was massive, and the idea of raising our daughter without a support network was daunting.  Instead, we settled on St Louis.  My wife's parents live in the area, so do several of her relatives, plenty of help raising our daughter.  We found a synagogue where our daughter could begin her Jewish education, and we moved into a 7th floor apartment on the edge of the stylish "Central West End".  I found a part time job, resolved to work on making design contacts and designing clothing lines during the day (and also taking our daughter to and from school) while my wife went to work.

And here begin the most recent Good Old Days.  We made several friends at our synagogue, most with children similar in age to our daughter.  We got invited to a lot of events (mostly family things), and I was even able to have a few drinks now and then at backyard bar-b-ques.  And for the time my daughter was in Hebrew School, the good times rolled.  

But, as Prince said, parties weren't meant to last.  Somewhere in there I abandoned my design aspirations in favor of going back to work full time in IT.  My wife lost her job, and has had trouble getting back into the workforce, so I'm now the "breadwinner," a role I never really wanted but that I seem to do fine at.  My daughter decided, after her Bat Mitzvah, that she didn't want further religious schooling, and I respected her decision.  I've tried to keep her involved with the temple but I'm afraid I'm not doing the best at that.  Money is tight, our debts are high, and I spend a lot of time alone.  Old age seems like it's coming faster than expected, as I barrel on toward 50.  

So, despite there being nothing particularly "wrong" in my life, these do not feel like the Good Old Days.  But who knows.  There could be another one coming up the street any time now...  

      

My Anxious Life

For people with anxiety disorder, like myself, life can be very complicated sometimes.  Here's part of the reason why.  You know how everyone always tells you how self-confidence is so crucial for everything you do?  Like looking for a job, or going on dates, or making major life decisions?  Imagine if there was always a voice in the back of your mind nagging at you that all the decisions you've made in your life, even the major ones that affected the formation of your identity, were wrong, for one reason or another.  Now try to be confident, even though from day to day various important aspects of your life just seem so wrong.  It's really difficult to remain confident in such circumstances.  I've been to therapists, doctors, leaders and followers of various world religions, and hedonists.  No one can have "the" answer (though I have learned many things that are very helpful to me in controlling the disorder), because no matter what decisions you make, sooner or later, you'll have to fight yourself to maintain them.  And constant battling with yourself erodes your confidence.  

I consider it a mark of success that despite all this, I have a long term job.  I own a house.  I have a family, a very intelligent daughter, friends, and a caring religious community.  But in no way am I confused about this: if I didn't have this disorder, I could have gotten a lot further in this life, financially at the very least.  But I'm not going to spend too much time fretting over what could have been: I am who I am.  Maybe, just maybe, I've learned some things I might not have otherwise learned, or done some good things I might not have known to do, if I hadn't had anxiety disorder.  And regardless of what I have to go through, day to day or week to week, I am blessed.   

Waiting to leave

Up until just before my 18th birthday, I lived in a small town in the middle of Illinois.  Back in those days, there was no internet; the only access a kid like me (and a town like mine) had to the larger world was media, or to go out in it.  We watched TV, read magazines of topics that interested us, read books from the school library.  My experience of "going out" in the world was generally limited to the nearby towns of Streator and Peru, when I would delve into shopping for the latest records and tapes, what seemed like an impossible expanse of role playing games and novels, and video cartridges for atari. I found reasons to extend my visits to the Peru mall as long as possible; sit in the bookstore and look at all the new products; Grab a bite at McDonalds or the Dairy Queen (we had no fast food in my town); catch a movie like Indiana Jones or Back to the Future at the cinema (built right into the mall!).  Until I or one of my friends could drive, we were at the mercy of my parents, who would eventually hunt us down and force us to return to dulls-ville.  

Once home, we'd delve into our purchases and use them to escape; listening to rap music, pretending we were superheroes or dragon slayers using pen and paper role playing games, or watching a movie on VHS.  Once I finally did escape, life started rolling, and as they often do, years went by in the blink of an eye.  But I still find myself returning to malls and retail shopping areas not just as a place to shop, but as a place that gives me a strange sort of internal comfort.