proteanme

Upheaval. This time I bought it on myself. Switching jobs is an opportunity to trust in my resilience. That’s what I’ve been saying to the me inside that gets caught up in predicting my future happiness or anxiousness based on leaving my old job and starting a new one. Even though it’s a futile exercise and I know that, I still get lured into it by my risk averse nature, and because it never seems futile at the outset. It seems prudent to try and figure out what’s going to make me happy, even though humans are not particularly adept at predicting their happiness (at least according to Daniel Gilbert).This  morning I awoke caught up in the exact predicament I’ve just been describing, which has brought on a fair amount of anxiety, a feeling I instinctively avoid, like jerking my finger away from a hot stove. Anxiety and the awareness of my response to it makes me think that my brain is my best friend and my worst enemy – something and I wish I had a better since of humor about. But forcing a sense of humor seems pointless. Although just the idea of saying “Ease up, mother fucker” makes me laugh because of the ineherent contradiction. I’ve got this line from an Ohio Player’s song stuck in my brain – “Rollercoaster of love, Rollercoaster.”