You look up at billions of stars, consider the expanding universe until your brain hurts, eat some more chocolate. What's it all about? Existential anxiety. You put three pairs of socks in the washing machine, five socks come out. You start dressing like white trailer trash and drinking martinis randomly. Existential anxiety. Here's my top tip. Don't fight it. Go to some remote spot (lots in Rural Perthshire), adopt a confident stance and address the Massive Great Muppet of Eternity thus: I GET THE JOKE, DUDE. NOW GET ME OUT OF THIS GOD-AWFUL LOOP OF MADNESS AND GIVE ME SOME ANSWERS. BY FRIDAY.
I come back from these (weekly) trips a more centred, calm and compassionate person. I can't say the deep-rooted distress ever goes away. It just gets more intense, more troubling and frankly more overwhelming by the week. I'm thinking of starting a support group: Coping with Seriously Debilitating Existential Threat. Friday evenings at my place. Bring your social worker.
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