I went to the doctor for shortness of breath last week. “What a shitty time to develop asthma,” I thought. “I mean I just quit my job, my health insurance will expire soon, and now this.”
On the doc’s table, he asked me:
“Any anxiety or stress at work?”
“Nope. I quit my job,” I answered. “I write now.”
“So no job?”
“Nope.”
“So how’s that going?”
“I won’t know for a while. Probably not until June. My first novel comes out in April. I won’t make any money from it until June. ”
“June? So you have no income?”
“I’ll be fine,” I reassured him.
“Hm.”
He listened to my heart for irregular rhythm. He listened to my lungs. We ran all kinds of tests. We did blood work. We took X rays.
But I was certain it was asthma.
He asked me when I first noticed it. “I think I had my first asthma attack mid-Janurary,” I said. “I thought it would go away but it seems to be getting worse so I finally decided to come in.” What shitty timing, I kept thinking.
They called me back a couple days ago and said my tests were all normal.
Then they suggested a good counselor for me to see.
A counselor? What the fuck do I need a counselor for? I don’t have time to sit in a fucking counselor’s office. They told me it was to help me with my anxiety. Basically they said it was all in my head.
I rejected that answer. I didn’t feel anxious. I felt cool as a cucumber.
I text my friends, “What a crock! My doc totally passed the buck! He said it’s anxiety!”
All of them were unanimous, “It is definitely anxiety.”
I didn’t want to hear that. To me that was like running a virus scan on your shitty computer and it turning up: “all good.” Now you just have a shitty computer and no way to fix it.
“At least it’s not asthma!” they celebrated.
No, fuck that! If it was asthma I would just buy an inhaler and go on with my life. How do I un-anxiety myself when I’m not even consciously aware I’m anxious?
My First “Asthma Attack”
Like I said, my first “asthma attack” was mid-January. I remember it. That’s when I submitted my novel to an editor. Up until that time, every day when I found a block of free time I would pack up my laptop and head to Starbucks to work on my novel.
The day I had my “asthma attack” I remember I packed up my laptop, slipped on my jacket, and then stood in the middle of my room. My novel was gone. It was with an editor. I had nothing to work on.
I couldn’t stand the thought of being idle. I hated my life too much to be idle.
Being idle was condemnation.
I would be stuck where I was forever unless I fucking did something. Unless I built something. But what?
And that’s when I had my first “asthma attack.”
I couldn’t settle down. I paced my room. I couldn’t breath.
Oh shit. I need to start something new but what? Should I start on a new novel? What the fuck would I write about? What if everyone hates my first novel and I try a second one, won’t everyone just hate that too?
Working on my novel brought me peace of my mind that I was building a future for myself and moving out of the hamster-wheel of the 9-5 life but that task was gone.
The Plan
Eight days ago I quit my job. I walked out. I wasn’t going to waste another day in a desk (even though they even gave me a chance to come back!). Today I still don’t know where my next paycheck is coming from but I’m spinning a lot of plates, hoping one of them will pan out. My plan is shaky, at best, but it’s a start.
The first part of my plan is this blog. At first I thought this would be an hour a day, two or three times a week thing. It’s actually a lot more demanding than that but I enjoy it. I like working on it and interacting with my readers. I have even been invited to share my story on a podcast with another blogger tomorrow, actually!
The second part of my plan is to sell my novel when it releases in April and to sell my novella, The Selfie Princess
I have two other ideas that I don’t want to bring up unless they actually work, in which case, you guys will be the first to know.
Dealing with the Anxiety
Let’s say I’ve sat on that news for a few days and I finally submit that I may have anxiety.
It’s totally subconscious. I am not aware of it happening. I don’t feel “worried.”
But basically my body is rejecting all my decisions lately as it has been in a flat-out panic attack for over a month. So what to do? Honestly, I have no clue. I’ve never had anxiety and I haven’t done any research.
My approach to virtually everything in life has always been “fuck it,” and keep doing what I want.
To tell the truth, I can’t breath well right now. My throat is so tight and sore from it. As a result, I don’t sleep well. I spend almost every waking moment hunched in front of my laptop. Working out keeps me sane but by my third rep of any exercise I’m so out of breath I’m lightheaded.
I’m not complaining. This is the life I chose. I know I will get through this.
It’s just nonstop fight-or-flight for me because everything I do now is risky.
I sit down to type up a blog post and I’m sharing myself with the whole world. Personal shit! (I’m writing about my anxiety!) My inner-most thoughts and beliefs. What if everyone hates it? What if people laugh at me? What about the naysayers?
These are thoughts I have to deal with every minute of my day.
Everybody feels fear. I’m not immune.
I just fight off all these negative thoughts and write anyway. I know I’m afraid but that doesn’t stop me from taking action. I can’t even breathe right now but fuck it; I want to write for a living more than I want to be “safe.”
When I was getting my master’s degree (which I wouldn’t do again) they had a saying they threw around daily: “If you wouldn’t want your mother seeing it on the front page of the paper, don’t do it.”
Worrying about what my mom might see in the paper works for accounting but it won’t work here. I can’t fake it here. You guys can’t connect or relate to a “perfect person.” I have to reveal my flaws to connect and, besides, you guys can’t respect a man who doesn’t take a risk in what he writes.
I have to put my real self out there every time I sit down and write something or why else would you guys give a shit?
…that’s kinda scary,
I know I’ve said I have no bosses but that’s not true…
You guys are my bosses now.
And I don’t get performance reviews quarterly anymore. I get them daily.
Every website visit, every link click, every comment, every share, every Facebook like, every Twitter retweet, I’m paying attention.
Those are my feedback loops. You guys let me know what I’m doing right and what I’m doing wrong.
I know if I just keep doing what I’m doing things will work out. I’m on the right track. You guys have shown me that.
Thanks so much for reading!
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