It's all so very silly. I used to love change. I reveled in change. Something is different? Something is happening? It was so very exciting. I would roll happily in change like a dog who finds an interesting smell, or a cat who successfully begs catnip. I would gather change to me, and wrap it around me like a soft, warm blanket on a cold, rainy day.
Now? I'm like my cats. Eyeing change suspiciously, walking lower to the ground, head stretched out in caution, ready to flee at any slight movement.
When did the act of change start to scare me? When did seeing small changes in my life leave me anxious, unable to settle, with the power to skew my whole day from calm into menacing?
It makes me feel weak, hysterical, neurotic. Is it because there is some lack in me, or do I have too much of something in my brain's physiology, nebulous yet so overpowering?
Change used to equal excitement, adventure, high-spirits. Now it equals distrust, nervousness, disquiet.
Stupid Anxiety Tiger. How I despise you.
