Thursday, February 26, 2015
Sometimes, it seems that a sense of humor used for coping can mean people don't really understand you when you are serious. My anxiety can manifest itself in some ridiculous ways. I can recognize the silliness of some of it from an outsider's point-of-view, but it doesn't mean I can stop it easily.
So, why the picture of socks? Well, I have always had a love for patterned socks. This love meant wearing non-patterned clothes, often including shirts with a simple graphic image or character. If I chose to wear the socks in the picture, the goldfish could be worn with a shirt that is plain white; plain orange; or, one of the plain blues. For the Stormtrooper socks, I would be okay with a solid black; solid white; solid red; or, maybe even a shirt (black, white, red, or perhaps gray) with an image from "Star Wars".
I decided to go out of my comfort zone and wear some patterned socks with shirts I never would have considered. This wasn't as daring as it could have been because I was wearing long pants. It wasn't like anyone was really going to see the socks. I did this a couple of times. But, I still had other restrictions I would place on wearing the socks. One day, I was going to wear the Stormtrooper socks and thought about wearing a black t-shirt with a white image of Spider-Man on it. I could not do it. There was no way I was going to be okay with mixing a Marvel character mixing with a "Star Wars" image. At this point, there is no way for my stress level to accommodate wearing mismatched socks. I get anxious when I see mismatched socks on someone, or intentionally sold that way.
I bet you, dear reader, are wondering what any of this has to do with the title of this post. Well, I think my anxiety being on the rise is partially related to a new year starting and my 40th birthday coming up next month. The socks wearing decisions give me a sense of control in what feels like a dreaded time.
Many have mentioned the awesomeness that 40 brings or how it is merely a number. The thing is, for some of those people, they had kids and/or a career. They had a sense of purpose, a meaning to life.
I'm having an epic stare down with my 40th birthday. No matter what the year, my birthday marks the approximate anniversary of a failed embryo implant. But, adding 40 into the mix adds some salt. I thought we would have kids at this point. Also, I thought I'd be able to tolerate any job as long as I had those kids. Now, I don't have the kids, I don't have the uterus, and I don't have any idea what to do with myself. What I do have is anxiety and depression because I should have my life together and I don't know how to get beyond my head to put the pieces of the puzzle together.