Calm the fuck down.

Why is it so easy to get sucked into the worries of life. You already know our lifetime is a mere fraction of a millisecond compared to the life of the universe. There are over 300 million galaxies just as big as ours, with at least 4,000 near-identical planets to sustain life. So why are we so scared to die? Why do we allow ourselves to get caught up in the petty things this life has to offer: whether it be financial woes, romantic expectation, failing to belong, or a pervasive, never-ending unhappiness?

This piece isn’t meant for you. I wrote it for myself this time.

I went to the psychiatrist last month without the need to fuel this perpetual anxiety. I dropped the facade. All these years prior I let victimhood bleed me dry. So therefore after said appointment I submitted a Release of Information for my progress notes. In the heyday apparently I was dubbed a rehabilitation failure. I glorified “being fucked up.” Today, I realized all that did was keep me in a state of perpetual anxiety, stonewalling any opportunity for growth. However, in this new progress note I was summarized as mildy dysphoric. This time I could care even less.

I already know what to do in my life. The medical world will not directly say that you chose not to get better, but that’s what needs to be said. It’s at odds with its nature to tell you that because of it’s liability-sensitive bureaucracy (not to mention the incentive the industry has for keeping you in treatment). Want to get better? Stop fucking hiding and make reality your drug. Stop dealing with your anxieties by floating from one dependency to the next. Reverse the negative sentiment. Be fortunate enough to be living well into your 30s. During the Roman Empire the average lifespan was about 30. My friend who gave me this soapbox of a blog was in the hospital this week; on bed rest for the next 3 weeks due to sepsis with a touch of pneumonia, and he’s only in his 30s. What does the silver lining tell you to do? Calm the fuck down.

Get your head right and declutter your life. Prune out the nonessential. Stop pedaling a bicycle with a broken chain and pull your head out your ass. Your girlfriend sucking the life out of you to the point of eggshells? Take a step back. Understand that you can’t control other people and vice versa. Stop chasing people that don’t want you long-term. Get a grip on the escalations because repairing the hiccups in your relationships cannot be done under an elevated emotional state.

Have you ever penetrated a girl and said some stupid lovey dovey shit because your penis was feeling good? There’s nothing wrong with that, but please get a grip on your penis (and I don’t mean from her vagina) by NOT saying stuff you don’t really mean outside of the moment. Pretty much- what you said 30 seconds before ejaculation should only be said if you can honestly say the same 30 seconds AFTER ejaculation (after her luster has waned). This alone will significantly reduce the tensions in your relationship because you’re not feeding her stupid expectations with stuff you didn’t mean. The only time you actually vibe deeper with somebody is during those “get real” moments. You can’t fake taking someone seriously; thus when you do get real, your appeal enhances and the bond deepens. Also, never leave somebody hanging. If you do, the Zeigarnik effect comes into play, which means that you remember things more strongly when left incomplete. Leaving issues unresolved will only feed the ball of resentment down the road. The idea is to be upfront and straightforward from the start, while simultaneously letting go of those selfish, suffocating, unreasonable desires/expectations.

With regards to letting go, ever since I hit 30 I’ve maneuvered myself towards the tide. I enjoy my freedom but at the same time understand that I am going to die. You can live happily ever after with somebody but ultimately you die alone; unless you’re tweaked out during a double suicide, if you want to be technical about it. Just fathom you are going to die. All the ways you attempt to tame your anxiety are bullshit. Embrace reality and stop letting pettiness be your drug.

Go to any major city with a subway. Observe how everybody is in a state of rush. They don’t accept where they are at the moment because they’re not at their destination. This state of rush can transform into a permanent state if you keep doing things to activate it. Just look at my buddy on bed rest the next 3 weeks. He was juggling too many priorities in life and overwhelmed himself. In communication, the “elusive 600” says you have the mental bandwidth to speak about 750 words per minute, but people only speak at about 150 per minute. That’s why sometimes you have other thoughts while talking. Just because there’s “600” potential words to be spoken doesn’t mean they should be. The communication conveyed would break down; like trying to juggle too many objectives in life just because you have the capacity for more, mistakenly thinking you can get ahead.

Minimize your priorities. Life is about liberation (and I don’t mean jerking off in a spaghetti o’s can). Free yourself and do what the fuck you want. Take ownership of your life while positioning yourself towards the tide. It’s a delicate balance because at the same time you’ll drown if you give it all to the tide. Even sharks realize they aren’t shit in the grand scheme of things. Wipe off that crown, princess, because there’s nothing that perpetuates misery more than a self-important asshole.

You are not special and you never were. You might have flashes of winning in life, but that’s all they are- kodak moments. Therefore, do not protect illusion. Fast forward this life 70 years from now; that corpse you see is a whole new level of meaninglessness.

We live a baned existence, but that doesn’t mean there has to be a NSO (negative sentiment override) in play. You CAN be disconnected in society yet still turn out alright. When your will is broken and have finally given up, turn onto the next fresh page. Look at the fuckin stars and let the celestial splendor sink in because, truly, you don’t have to get your way. You don’t need to live happily ever after. You don’t need to enforce these romantic expectations. What you think you need, you really don’t. At this very moment your life is complete. From this point forward do what the fuck you want. Everything else is an excuse. Stop feeding your anxiety.

Stop being that guy caught in the middle of two people waving at each other, thinking you’re being waved at. Be momentarily embarrassed then tread on; maybe even laugh at your social immaturity.

Reignite that fire in your eyes, riding that tide with a genuine presence. It starts by not only making that decision to do so, but by taking some kind of action that causes a pattern-interrupt. All these years you were stuck, divorced from the reality of your true nature. Somewhere along the line you let worry creep into your life. As for the pattern-interrupt, stop doing things which feed the core of your worry: whether it be drinking; whether it be the news and its perpetual state of worry (if it’s not Isis it’ll be the dangers of gum disease); or whether it be the verbal grenades the cruel wifey chucked at you, shattering those precious feelings in the process. How special and fragile your feelings are. Pretty much- stop fucking crying and do something instead. Hold an umbrella up to that black cloud and be over it. In the process, let the worry WORRY you so you can get beyond it.

Though you already knew that all along, but you chose not to get better. You chose to be ping-ponged by anxiety.

Pussy.

There’s a frog under my bed as I write this very sentence. I plan on going to bed at the conclusion of this blog. What do I do about the frog?

Personally, I can sleep knowing the frog is underneath me. The severity of the anxiety is mild. For somebody else the severity may be problematic. If that’s the case, you already know what you have to do.

Get the frog, pussy.