Separation Anxiety
A few years ago, I diagnosed myself with "separation anxiety." Granted, it was one of those half-joking moments of admission. With that said, it was also one of those half-serious moments of confession. Admittedly, I probably never had a clinical case of separation anxiety, but I did know that I had always had trouble letting go of things because the idea of separation simply did not sit well with me. To delve further into my subconscious, my separation anxiety is likely due to the great ease at which I emotionally attach myself to the things and people nearby. Of equally reasonable consideration, it is also likely to due to some degree of narcissism in that I do not want, post-separation, for the other person to let go of--and worse--forget me (I mean, really. I'm me!) even though letting go is precisely the purpose, if not definition, of separation.
Between platonic, romantic, and professional relationships, I often ended up in debates with myself. One part of my mind would say, "You gotta just up and leave." Another would counter, "But you have it so good. And how would (insert name here) feel?" Still another would add, "Yeah, it's been so long already. Might as well stay put." Then reality would intrude and declare, "Exactly. It's been so long already. Here's a chance--time to move on." And on most occasions, I would just stay put and leave things exactly the way they had been, albeit the nudging urge that I might be more content otherwise. I think it fair to infer that I feared deviating from established comfort zones and habits, and subsequently feared heading toward unexplored territory and openness. On a smaller scale, I know that I also worried how others involved would feel and what they would think; parallel to that was the fear of my disappointing them and thereby disappointing myself. Alongside those various fears was also the deep concern that separation wouldn't necessarily lead to something good or better or anything at all--the potential to leave behind something that was perfectly good and better and everything altogether.
And of course, separation and transition come hand in hand. Despite my half-joking exclamations of separation anxiety, I always dealt with transition periods relatively well. That isn't to say that I never had moments of doubt or grief (take that word with a grain of salt--or pepper, whatever you're into), but the initial anxiety almost never prolonged itself. And that would, understandably, lead one to highly question my self-diagnosis, however jokingly or seriously I may have presented it.
Regardless, I mention transitions because the last few months have been nothing short of them. And I have been speaking of separation anxiety in the past tense because I noticed just today how much easier it has been for me to separate myself from the aforementioned established comfort zones and habits surrounding familiar people and situations. Although still uncertain about future prospects and analytic of opportunity costs, I implement and accept separation with more ease and poise than I used to, and I suspect that is primarily due to a statement I have been hearing increasingly frequently: You gotta do you. To each his own, no hard feelings; no hard feelings, to each his own. In whichever order, I have finally come to learn that separation is a necessary part of life, and there is no need to be particularly anxious about it, because it happens to everybody, and therefore people are, for the most part, understanding about it. Separation is necessary also because that is the point where you reflect on what you have learned from the past experience, and look forward to what you will learn from the next one.
And with that, I shall separate myself from this long overdue post and move on to a daily essential: sleep. Good night, all.
Between platonic, romantic, and professional relationships, I often ended up in debates with myself. One part of my mind would say, "You gotta just up and leave." Another would counter, "But you have it so good. And how would (insert name here) feel?" Still another would add, "Yeah, it's been so long already. Might as well stay put." Then reality would intrude and declare, "Exactly. It's been so long already. Here's a chance--time to move on." And on most occasions, I would just stay put and leave things exactly the way they had been, albeit the nudging urge that I might be more content otherwise. I think it fair to infer that I feared deviating from established comfort zones and habits, and subsequently feared heading toward unexplored territory and openness. On a smaller scale, I know that I also worried how others involved would feel and what they would think; parallel to that was the fear of my disappointing them and thereby disappointing myself. Alongside those various fears was also the deep concern that separation wouldn't necessarily lead to something good or better or anything at all--the potential to leave behind something that was perfectly good and better and everything altogether.
And of course, separation and transition come hand in hand. Despite my half-joking exclamations of separation anxiety, I always dealt with transition periods relatively well. That isn't to say that I never had moments of doubt or grief (take that word with a grain of salt--or pepper, whatever you're into), but the initial anxiety almost never prolonged itself. And that would, understandably, lead one to highly question my self-diagnosis, however jokingly or seriously I may have presented it.
Regardless, I mention transitions because the last few months have been nothing short of them. And I have been speaking of separation anxiety in the past tense because I noticed just today how much easier it has been for me to separate myself from the aforementioned established comfort zones and habits surrounding familiar people and situations. Although still uncertain about future prospects and analytic of opportunity costs, I implement and accept separation with more ease and poise than I used to, and I suspect that is primarily due to a statement I have been hearing increasingly frequently: You gotta do you. To each his own, no hard feelings; no hard feelings, to each his own. In whichever order, I have finally come to learn that separation is a necessary part of life, and there is no need to be particularly anxious about it, because it happens to everybody, and therefore people are, for the most part, understanding about it. Separation is necessary also because that is the point where you reflect on what you have learned from the past experience, and look forward to what you will learn from the next one.
And with that, I shall separate myself from this long overdue post and move on to a daily essential: sleep. Good night, all.
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