So What's On the Other Side of an Anxiety Spiral?

It has been three weeks since I finished work. You would think I'd feel more relaxed, but the knots behind my shoulder blades persist, and the constant feeling that I should be doing something remains. I have never been good at relaxing.

When I first officially handed in my notice (link below), I felt a sense of relief. Fear too, but it was mixed with hope and peace. I underestimated the toll working for the next four weeks would take on my mental health. That's a long-time for someone prone to overthinking to spiral.

It’s the waiting I've never been able to stand. When I finally came to the decision that I was done, I wanted to begin the process of moving on. Instead I felt like I was trapped in some kind of limbo state, unable to start anything new while my head was so full of all the things I needed to finish first.

My brain went into absolute crisis mode, sending out danger signals, trying to convince me that I had made a terrible mistake. A mistake that would completely and irrevocably fuck up the rest of my life.

In my stressed-out state I began to catastrophise, my head swimming with hypothetical situations: What if I have just resigned from the only job anyone will ever want me for? What if I never find work again? What if our roof starts leaking tomorrow and we have to spend all our savings replacing it? What if in five years time my son needs orthodontic work and we can't afford it, all because I gave up this job, right now, in this moment.

The decision to be brave and start a new chapter of my life began to feel like a moral failing. Over and over I asked myself, why couldn't I just suck it up and grind away like everybody else? What was wrong with me?

I had tried to stick it out, I really had. I had tried to build other parts of my life so that my unfulfillment and unhappiness at work didn't take up so much space. But by the end of each day there was never anything left, and everything else always fell by the wayside. My hobbies. My physical health. My mental health.

I cried a lot. Just full on bawled that our family would be destitute and it would be my fault. I spent hours and hours pouring over our budget, looking for places to reduce our spending. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't think clearly, and I was exhausted.

Any one who saw me going about my day at work would probably not have known what turmoil I was in. While I may not be good at relaxing, I have always been good at internalising.

I made it through those four weeks, like so many other things I have made it through before. I worked out my final day, handed over my things, and said my goodbyes. I hoped to feel the weight lift immediately, but it didn't. The agitation remained.

I have written about a million lists over the last couple of months. Lists of pros and cons for leaving my job, lists of things I need to tidy up before my last day of work, lists of upcoming expenses so that I can make sure we've put funds away before tightening our belts. I have always turned to obsessive planning in times where I feel my life is out of control.

This week I have begun to write different kinds of lists. To do lists that say things like: go for a walk, do a yoga session, watch a movie, bake something, write.

I first wrote this story a few weeks ago, while I was still in the middle of the notice period, but I have pulled and rewritten it. Reading back over it now that the spiral is beginning to slow, I didn't like what I had written. I debated whether I should rewrite it, or just accept it and move on, but I've decided that the whole point of this new stage of my life is to give myself the time to work out the story I want to write for myself. I have to start somewhere.