Goldenheart, or Why My Anxiety is No Longer a Defect
I had a realization today: my anxiety is no longer a defect.
I had a realization today: my anxiety is no longer a defect.
I know I am an anxious individual, but I’ve come to appreciate that for what it really is: I want to give everyone in the world a small piece of my own happiness and I get upset when I can’t share it.
In 2012, one of my good friends and I went on a summer trip that would change the course of my life forever. Of the many beautiful moments of that trip — driving my very own car through the mountains of West Virginia and feeling my heart swell with grace, seeing Furthur at Legend Valley as a heart formed in the clouds of sunset sky, staying at a five-star hotel in Asheville days after camping in the humid Ohio heat at the aforementioned music festival — one still, and shall always stick out the most.
I’ve always had a thing about nicknames.
I like to give them and when I do, they generally stick. The power of a new name is almost magical — calling someone something that fits their small little niche in life always sends a tingle of good vibes down my spine.
I’ve never had many nicknames, other than my original: Sam. It’s short and sweet, just the way I like it, androgynous…
