I wake with a steaming sense of anxiety. I am having issues and though they are small, they are also big. I have a few things to work out, it is all internal. I take the dog to the park, I am determined to walk. I must. I have not walked much these days, content to carry heavy ladders and do hard labor, I have not been eating well, this weighs most of all on my inner sense of balance. I must return to yoga. I must return to my 3 mile walks. My body needs it. I must return to riding the exercise bike.
As my feet carry me across the familiar ground, the dog is lost in the smells, I have to urge him on repeatedly. Finally I see that walking is a direct link to my desire to write. I am so full of anxiety this morning that I get most of the way through the walk before I realize I have not looked around me at all. I have only looked at the dirt, and leaves, and detritus and rocks and the dappled sunlight sprinkled across the path and nothing more.
Why have I been so far from this place that offers so much solace. Why have I been eating absolute crap food when I so much prefer fresh and wholesome. I feel sluggish, my walk is short but takes too long. Where was I? Oh yes. Chewing on the insides of my mouth, dwelling on things that only hurt me, from the inside.
I am ugly and hateful, and fat, and lazy and horrible. All of my culture tells me so.
I am neurotic.
god i am so very anxious today.
i do not know why.