TENX9 AGAINST THE ODDS
TENX9 AGAINST THE ODDS
It’s Saturday afternoon, I’m sitting on my couch, and it feels like there’s a cylinder block on my chest with an electrical charge. This is how my anxious part makes itself known. I haven’t named this part, but if I were to give it a name, I would name it something dignified, despite the fact that it’s a son-of-a-b*tch. It comes in heavy, hot, and electric — which almost sounds kinda sexy, but it’s not. I want to pull the covers over my head, turn on a movie and hide, but this part of me demands my attention, so attention is what I’m going to give it. I set up two ivory folding chairs across from one another in my living room, one for myself, and the other for my anxious part. Thank you so much for being here today anxiety, I’m curious, what are you anxious about?
“You’re never going to have what you want in this life, you’re not going to be able to achieve your dreams, you’re not going to make it, it’s just not going to happen for you. You can’t do it, you won’t do it…”
(WOOF).
Thank you so much for sharing anxiety, that is incredibly encouraging. I can’t imagine why I would ever feel like there’s an electrocuted cylinder block on my chest.
Well, Rachel, if it hasn’t happened for you in the past, why should it happen for you now?
That’s soo classic anxiety, to use the past as an accurate gauge of the future. As if the circumstances are exactly the same as they were in the past, as if I haven’t grown at all, as if I have nothing left in me to give. If I’m single now, I’ll be single forever. If I haven’t published a book, and I’m not part of a creative community, I’ll never publish a book and work with other creatives. If I don’t live in the mountains now, I guess I’ll never live in the mountains.
Anxiety doesn’t trust me, it’s so afraid that I will make the choice to do nothing. But doing nothing feels like death. I know that may sound dramatic, but if I do nothing, Lorenzo might kill me. Ok, it came to me, my anxious part’s name is LORENZO. Lorenzo comes from the ancient Roman city of Laurentum, known for its laurel trees. The laurel tree itself is a symbol of victory and honor, with victorious individuals being crowned with laurel wreaths. I did not know this before I looked it up, but I think it’s fitting, because my anxiety, Lorenzo, is pushing me to beat the odds, the odds against myself. By the way, if you’re at a dinner party and want to make elevated small talk, ask someone what the meaning of their name is. This question has always served me well, because everyone’s name has a meaning, or it gets people curious.
I think the best time to talk about your book is after you’ve written it, or never, you know, because everyone’s “trying to write their book.” But I had to risk being thought of as a cliché tonight. The odds of getting published without a literary agent, a rogue person like me, is 1 in 1,000, that is 0.1%. With a literary agent, those odds improve ever so greatly, to a whopping 2 in 1,000, 0.2%. There is a very, very small chance that anyone other than my mom, and maybe Lauren and Thomas will ever read a book that I publish.
The fact that the odds are so stacked against me doesn’t bother me. What bothers me is the odds of me getting distracted by my new tiktok account and not following through on a life goal. What are the odds that I can summon the grit it actually requires to complete such a project? How bad do I actually want this, and what am I willing to sacrifice to make it happen? It’s like a double edged sword, if I do it, I’ll be fine, if I don’t, Lorenzo will kill me. I guess I can say I’m grateful to Lorenzo, being so deeply connected to my creative expression. Painful as it is sometimes, Lorenzo is determined to wear a laurel wreath on its head, it’s that or the cylinder block.
It’s Thursday, March 6th, 2025. I saw a notification on my work calendar, meeting from 11:00am to 11:30am with the CEO of my company. There’s only so many things this could mean, I’m getting a promotion or I’m getting fired. Our CEO came into my office, sat down, and told me that my particular office location in the suburbs is closing, permanently. That means I gotta pack up all of my stuff, find a new job, or take her offer of working at the downtown location, (ok so I wasn’t getting fired), but all of my therapy clients live in the suburbs, so it didn’t make much sense for me to take her up on that. So I said no to the offer.
I did not care that my job, the one I’ve been working at for the last four years, was ending. Because everything seems to be ending in my life right now. Or I guess you can say beginning. The usual concern and dread of having to find a new job didn’t phase me, because it felt right. An opportunity just opened itself up. I’M MOVIN’ TO THE MOUNTAINS! I don’t know exactly where, but I have a list of cities on a google doc that I’ll be visiting over the course of a couple months. I just have to go out there, walk around, and catch a vibe. I’m from here, I grew up in the suburbs, and living here has always felt like more of a reactive decision, opposed to something that I chose for myself. I don’t remember the first time I heard this saying, but it’s always stuck with me, if you don’t make decisions for your own life, your life will be decided for you.
The thought of letting life make decisions for me gives Lorenzo the energy to dump another cylinder block on my chest, the fear of not making a decision is far worse than making one. Of course I’m scared, I’m about to pick a random ski-town and move there on my own. But I was talking to some of my friends, one who is also contemplating moving, but is intimidated by the prospect of starting over, making new friends, and putting herself out there. Naturally, but as I was listening to her say that, I told myself I cannot let that be a reason why I don’t make the move. What are the odds that I can make all new friends in a new city? I asked ChatGPT what the odds were, and the odds are in my favor. I have a 70–80% shot if I put in a moderate effort, and worst case, “if you’re shy and the city’s cliquey, it might dip to 40–50%. I don’t even care what makes a city cliquey, I’m breaking in.
Six months ago, this would be a different story. Six months ago I was planning on moving to Wisconsin with my boyfriend. I was down with the idea of raising some chickens, getting married, and having a handful of babies. That was it, my life was set. I remember being on the phone with my best friend. I said, I do not want this relationship to fail, I do not, I do not want to be single again. But I think the universe laughed at me that day, and I imagine my spirit guides we just like, yeaaaahhhh we got other plans for you! Because the odds of that relationship succeeding would mean I would have to be a different person, and if loving him meant I would be loving myself less, then the odds are no longer in my favor.
I looked up the odds on ChatGPT to see what my odds are of finding someone new, and in the span of five years, it’s likely. Unless I decide to be a hermit, and/or continue to date emotionally unavailable partners. But I’d say the odds of pursuing what makes me feel most alive greatly increases those odds. I couldn’t expect to feel so discomforted by my relationship, my job, and the city that I live in all being in transition right now, but the odds that I actually made moves on my longterm goals without these aspects of my life being in flux are low, I needed the push, and that’s just something I feel on a deeper level. There is a force that is squeezing me right now, it would be impossible to mistake it for just, “anxiety”, but rather, creating the circumstances to create an entirely new life. And the odds are, it’s going to be better than the one I’m leaving behind.