Anxiety came to start the weekend. The sponsor declared
that a document was lacking , and this made me think that everything was lost.
These situations seem to emerge to test our capacity of dealing with things,
but mainly of dealing with ourselves, with our insecurities and fears. I had to
manage my anxiety and my immediate fear that my longed-for experience in London
might have to be called off.
So, I made myself busy. Friday evening, School
of Psychoanalisys. An interesting theme
by Lacan and some craftsmanship to understand one of his four-dimensional
figures. It´s wonderful to be among psychoanalysts. I have always felt welcome,
protected and evolving while among them. I don´t have the ambition of becoming
an expert in Lacan, but some of his insights are so astonishing! In the Seminar
we´re reading, L´Angoisse, he
expresses one of the origins of anguish as the lack of the lack and I feel it
relates directly to my research topic. But at that moment I was suffering
because of the lack of a presence, which seems to be slightly different from
the presence of a lack. Lack, presence and absence combined may outline many of
the origins of anguish.
Feeling a bit lighter hearted after cutting and
sewing, I got home and relaxed. Next day, Saturday morning. I needed to tidy up
something to alleviate distress. The entire house would be too much, but
washing the car proved to be a perfect task. Hose, vacuum cleaner, window
cleaner, baby wipes for the leather seats. Too much effort invested with the
result of a tidy car, a sore tendon and messed windows. Will I ever find out
the secret to clean car windows properly? Would the cleanliness be different
because of the insulfilm?
Second task: wash the kennel. I´m glad to have
the dogs healthy and with a tidy place to sleep. Somehow, it makes me think of
what John Ruskin said about work: indispensable not in the sense of a means to
get bread, but of a mental interest. I wanted and needed to keep my mind busy
with simple worries - like the amount of soap to use or if I had or not closed
the water tap. I know that keeping myself busy under these circumstances could
also mean an escape, but for some hours it couldn´t be considered a bad idea.
After lunch, no time to think. Shower,
production, road. I couldn’t not be there. It was the book launch of a dear
friend. I had followed the whole process of her PhD and it has often been
inspiring for my attempt to get one. Some of this inspiration may have been
mutual, for she mentioned my name in the Acknowledgements. I felt sheepish,
honoured, privileged, grateful. All of this, at the top of my anxiety, led me
not to control my impatience to wait. The queue was huge and after an hour and
a half and three attempts to greet her, I decided to slide off. We all have
limits, although she deserved more of my dedication and time, despite much of
it having been wasted at a traffic jam on the way to the launch venue. After
picking up my stepson at his grandfather´s and a rapid visit to the
supermarket, I could finally drive home
with joy.
Once there, I avoided the mail box. And if the document
wasn´t there? But I didn´t want to be let down by another piece of evidence of
the same lack. Straight to the kitchen to prepare a dessert for Father´s Day
and forget the question. Sunday morning. I imposed myself the challenge of
preparing something new for the whole family, which is not a crowd but big enough
to make me feel terrified with the idea of playing the cook. Even only we four
at home make me feel anxious about cooking.
While printing the recipe, I couldn´t help
checking the e-mail box. It had arrived! And on Friday evening! Two anguishing
days could have been saved, but no lesson would have been learned... I uploaded
the document at the sponsor´s online system and felt my anxiety departing with it.
Zygmunt Bauman claims life is liquid. I think anxiety is gaseous and can become
ethereal with a click. However, under high pressure...
