Structure vs Spontaneity

Of the many things that an anxious person lacks, spontaneity is a big one of them

Have I mentioned that I have anxiety? 

Having navigated different situations and moments with different tools, I now know what works for me. I still have my days when even after I did everything I know is good for me, I still struggle. 

Having structure and a clear plan of what awaits me helps me breathe. I know what’s expected of me, I know what I need to put out into the world, I know what awaits me. However, in having a daily routine and/or a structured day, I find my life lacking any sense of spontaneity. I’m currently shivering at the sight of the word itself. 

I stopped allowing spontaneity into my life a long time ago. I would say as far as my childhood or maybe a couple of instances in my teenage years. Spontaneity, to me, means the unexpected and the unknown, therefore meaning a nice old anxiety attack. 

The past couple of weeks, I have been rigorous about structuring my day to the end. February was a month of the unexpected, from unexpected death to grief that shook the ground from underneath my family and I. With that, came the realization that I have no control. So I decided to only try to control the things I could. That turned out to be what I can do throughout the day. So I made sure that no hour went unplanned for. I started to forbid myself from doing anything that would be considered nonchalant. I wouldn’t even allow myself to do some coloring - which is widely known for helping with anxiety. I was fearful of the structure possibly crumbling and the unknown possibly entering my life. 

I stopped being free. 

Today, I find myself fearful of my structure. I’m fearful of the mundanity of my days. Fear being the biggest trigger to my anxiety, I find it very hard to discern between what I need to do to keep myself sane and what I should do to perhaps change some things around and invite some exciting moments into the monotonous day ahead. What do I do? 

Journaling this morning, I invoked the terrifying word mentioned above. Spontaneity. Shivers. I only permitted myself to think and write about it in the hypothetical: 

  If I were to be spontaneous, slightly spontaneous, I would go on an unprompted walk, a walk with no end goal in sight. A walk not to get the groceries, but to walk.

Terrifying. 

  If I were to be spontaneous, I would not write down my tasks and chores for tomorrow and I would go with the flow.

Horrifying!

But this is exactly the type of crazy-out-of-my-mind action I need. However, just the idea of it scares me. Frankly, I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. The rock being my paralyzing anxiety that won’t let me fully live. The hard place being the lonely place in which I find myself existing everyday. 

The loneliness that comes with restricting myself from even thinking about going out of my comfort zone is stupefying. I’m imprisoned in my house, fearful of the outside - the outside brings mystery. I’m scared of reaching out and making friends. I’m in dire need of being in nature. But I’m limited. Limited to the tasks that I know won’t cause a frenzy in my mind. Limited to having to protect my very hard-to-cultivate ease. 

My days are starting to blend into each other and mold into a dark sea that is pulling me from my leg. I feel it up to my neck. I don’t want to drown, I want to swim and move my body and laugh while doing it. 

But I find myself to be just a humble servant to my anxiety. Providing the tools and assistance Her Highness constantly asks for while I put my needs and wishes aside. 

Will spontaneity forever be on the horizon and yet unreachable? Or will I ever reach it, pull it down to my level and never let go?