The problem with living in a cinema-level every day hellscape (in terms of the political situation in the US and economic situation in most of the world) is that you never quite know if you are feeling something because you are off or because the world is off.

Usually, I default to both.

But today, we’re gonna ignore the world (if only) and focus on ME. (Hey, it’s my blog.)

For most of my life, I have known I’m an anxious person. It wasn’t some big aha moment in therapy that came in my twenties. My parents both exist at a pretty high baseline level of anxiety (about different things – and I LUCKILY got both), so I also just grew up thinking my high anxiety made sense for my high ambition, focus, and achievements.

And maybe it did/does make sense.

But I also, for the first time in my life, have been feeling like it’s not sustainable. Which is a crazy thing to say at 40.

I don’t know if I mentioned this in The Recap Post: 40 has already felt really, really spiritual to me, which I did not expect.

In the same week I turned 40, (1) I got my residency approval in Costa Rica, which I have been dying for since the first minute I set foot in this country at 26 years old and applied for two years ago; (2) I had my interview for grad school scheduled the day of my birthday (spoiler alert: I got in and I’m going, more on that later); and (3) my husband and I decided to move back to New York, which you already know.

I have to be honest in that I really expected 40 to feel like just another birthday, but it’s already felt instead like the beginning of a huge transition. A transition into a life I want a lot more than the life I’m currently living. A old (new) city that I love. A new career path. And confirmation of life after the US!

All that to say…the anxiety that I lived with for my first 40 years doesn’t feel like it’s really going to fit in the next 40.

I’m finding that not only is the baseline level of stress I existed under for all of my life not serving me anymore, I actually couldn’t even make myself tolerate it if I wanted.

Unfortunately, I also realized that anxiety/stress comes with a few other things that really made me who I am and that I’m having a hard time rediscovering post Holly leaving. Specifically, discipline, drive, and that “get up and go” feeling. Since Holly left, and especially since perimenopause really began in earnest, and even MORE now after turning 40, I have the very tiniest level of tolerance for anything that isn’t pure enjoyment. I don’t feel like pushing myself to do, well anything, if it’s not giving me immediate joy.

And that piece – yes, I do need to work on because I have loved being that disciplined, driven person. TBD on that, it’s a work in progress.

But that being said, from what I’ve been reading and watching about perimenopause/menopause, this change (really only wanting enjoyment) is actually super common and happens to many women. Along with a sharp decline in tolerance for bullshit.

I already liked who I am because I very very intentionally built this person. But with these changes, I (generally) like myself even more. I wish I could go back to 20-year-old me and tell her to tolerate a lot less bullshit and enjoy herself a lot more.

Another thing I’ve been feeling (I should tell you now, this blog has no point, it’s just the perimenopausal ramblings of someone alone in a house in Costa Rica – more on that later (do I actually ever get back to things later?)) is this feeling like I need to create. And I need art. Which I’ve never experienced before.

Although I’ve always been an art person in that sense that I really, really appreciate and value art and feel like it drives our society forward and drives our society to FEEL in a way that nothing else can, I’ve never felt quite like this – like I need to create. Like I’ve ignored my own art for too long in pursuit of building a practical life and that simply won’t work anymore.

Although I have loved many forms of art over the years, in the past several I’ve been much more focused on physicality as art. Not just handbalancing or contortion, but mainly those. It felt like peace to me and in a way, creation, but now I think it was just more meditative.

The art that I’ve consistently stuck to since I was a child is, well, this. My writing may have taken several different forms over the years, like published and polished, blog-only, and of course, journaling for no one’s eyes, but now it has taken on a different meaning.

It is kind of like the art is all of it: the escape (into a world of my mind and my feelings), the cure (for the burnout, because it’s creation), the discovery (because a lot of times, things come out in writing that you may not have realized were stuck in your head), and the mechanism for transformation (self-explanatory).

It also, coincidentally, seems to be a perfect new way to help get through some of the anxiety. What handbalancing has been doing for me for many years, I think, might be transitioning (back?!) into writing.

I’ve read actually that the cure for burnout specifically isn’t always just actual rest – a lot of times it is finding something that makes it feel like your soul is on fire.

For me, art has been one of those things and I’m looking forward to more if as I’m here in Costa Rica (seriously, I promise more on that later!).

Ciao for now.