why I (sorta) quit true crime podcasts

I say sorta because I'm still currently listening to "Cold," but I know how that one ends, and it's more frustrating and sad than gruesome. Still doesn't explain why I like listening to frustrating and sad things, though.

Last year I had an abundance of time at work and nothing with which to fill it. So I started to listen to true crime podcasts, because I didn't have to pay very much attention to what was happening and I could still teach myself Adobe Illustrator or something. Until I did start paying attention, and then the things I was hearing were just too much. True, it has helped me to be more cautious--when I was in high school I would go running at night all the time, always alone, never with any sort of reflective gear on or mace or anything. Now I would never do that.

I have mixed feelings about this culture of fear that's so prevalent now, though! As a kid I was often sent outside for the entire day and most of the time my mom vaguely knew where I was (in the general neighborhood), but I didn't have a cell phone or a walkie talkie or GPS or anything. She just trusted that I would come home at the end of the day (and I did). As a teenager, my friends and I would have sleepovers where we'd usually end up walking around the neighborhood (at 1am) just because. That sounds insane to me now, but at the same time....

Is the world really a scarier place now than it was then? Is the risk higher? I'm not a parent yet, so I can't say for sure how I'll feel about letting my future kids run loose without really knowing where they are at all times, but I don't want them to be anxious. I don't want them to think that the possibility of bad things happening in the world is more likely than good things.

There are so many good things. We just don't ever talk about them.

 

 

On good days, if you trust life, life has to answer you.

— Albert Camus, from A Happy Death (Vintage, 1995)  

*goes running once* *has to take five ibuprofen before going to sleep*

 My anxiety has reared its ugly head once again, and this time, instead of lamenting about mental illness on Instagram, I decided to delete the app and go for a run. And now my FitBit actually has steps on it and I've remembered I have muscles in my shoulders for the first time in years and I feel like I'm moving towards something. Literally and not-so-literally.

Could this be strength?! Or something like it?

I could talk all day about how many good things I have pushed away because of anxiety and how little good that did me (shocker), but what I really wanna say is probably the most obvious thing in the world. Luckily, only three people still read this blog and one of them is me and the other is my mom.

You can't get over your anxiety by sitting in it. That's like saying you can't get dry if you keep sitting in a puddle. WOW AM I GOOD AT METAPHORS OR WHAT (definitely or what). 

You have to move.

I'm reading the Old Testament right now (for the first time ever, all the way through. I KNOW) and that book of scripture is basically just God asking his children to do the most anxiety-inducing things you can imagine. Abraham? Sacrifice your son. Abraham's wife? You're going to have to wait 100 years before you have a son. And then I'm going to ask your husband to sacrifice him. Oh, and can we talk about how infertility is a huge theme in the Old Testament? It's just...a lot. A lot of hard things these people had to go through. And that's not just in the Old Testament, but it's definitely got that theme of "sojurning in the wilderness while waiting on the Lord" kinda feel.

But none of the prophets you hear about in the Old Testament or their children or their wives sat around waiting for something to happen, waiting for God to bless them. They did what he asked, always, without waiting, and that kind of faith is exactly the kind I need to get over anxiety. To get past my own mental roadblocks that tell me "this thing is out of your control and therefore everything will go wrong."

Do you know how often that's true? 100% of NEVER.

The last thing I scribbled in my sketchbook was this note from my phone, and I have no idea where it came from (it's not from me, that's for sure):

You cannot see the gift in what you resist.

trying to be relatable AND poetic

This is my constant struggle.

But I guess a writer can be whatever they want, because I don't write for anyone else. Just for me. If it helps you or resonates with you or makes you laugh, gOOD.

But I don't do it for you.

Resolutions are on (most) everybody's minds at this time of year, but I gave up making a list of resolutions about 5 years ago. It just made me feel overwhelmed and like a failure as soon as I inevitably let one of my fifty lofty goals fall by the wayside.

Now I try to set one broad goal for the year that kind of encompasses who I want to become. Last year it was to pay attention more--which happened to encompass many of my spiritual, physical, and emotional goals. And I think I had more noticeable progression last year than I have in a while (at least, noticeable progression to me, which is all that matters).

I'm still not quite sure if I can put into words what my goals are for this year, but seeing as our family has some big changes coming soon (moving, graduating, getting new jobs, etc), I feel like my goal will probably have something to do with faith over fear.

Last year, and probably every year of my life so far, I made some decisions out of fear. I'm a pretty  anxious person (something I am trying to overcome), and any sort of change to my comfort zone results in my immediately feeling worried, out of control, and wanting to run away from it all. Not healthy, yo!

So even though I don't know where I'll be living or what I'll be doing in six months, I feel strangely calm about it all. I know it will all be fine.