From some of the smallest decisions I’ve made in life to most of the largest, anxiety has played a critical role. It’s been a constant, often unwanted companion but at times a useful one, urging restraint throughout my 36 years on this unpredictable rock.
Thankfully I’m in a position to treat its more crippling effects these days, something I try not to take for granted. Having access to a doctor and prescription medication has made all the difference in managing it, something I would encourage anyone who has the option but is on the fence about doing so to explore.
The thought of treating your anxiety may give you even more anxiety, but you’re not crazy and you’re not alone. I promise.
I haven’t always understood that myself, altering or stopping treatment altogether more than once. At times it was because it wasn’t an option financially – but more often it was because my struggle wasn’t always evident, even to myself.
Lemonade is a clear example of that. Not Beyonce’s album, though it still haunts me that Adele bested her masterwork to win the 2017 Grammy for Album of the Year. The yellow-ish drink you throw in a jug to sell as a kid.
Over-sweetened, under-cooled water; flavored with lemon dust or judging from the smell, a drop or two of Lysol. I only sold it once in my life, a horrifying experience I’ll never forget.
Setting up a lemonade stand wasn’t something I particularly wanted to do, nor was it something that was incredibly common in my neck of the woods. A good chunk of my childhood was spent living in an apartment complex, where neighbors were more likely to use their quarters for laundry than a mysterious drink, but I felt pressured to try it. Something about growing up in Ohio during the 90s made it feel like a rite of passage.
I finally got my chance at around nine years old while staying with my grandmother. She lived in a neighborhood with plenty of houses and heavy foot traffic, right near a bicycle trail, and friends of the family had set up a lemonade stand for their children right beside it.
I was excited to join their entrepreneurial efforts. We’d grown up together and shared a rapport, something we were sure would set us up for success.
We had it all: the aging card table from their garage, draped with only the finest marker-laden poster board. We topped it with a tackle box full of bills and coins, presented beside a pristine glass pitcher full of the golden goods. We just needed customers.
By childhood standards, it was days before any would come. We eventually began taking shifts, monitoring our shop solo and waiting for someone – anyone – to ask us to quench their thirst.
It was during my tenure as CEO that someone finally came. I spat out whatever spiel I’d rehearsed 97 times and as I was pouring their cup, the condensation on the pitcher made it slip through my fingers.
It shattered. Glass went all over the bicycle trail and lemonade went all over the two of us. It destroyed our sign, pooled on the table and ruined my life. I was speechless.
I imagine our patron wasn’t, but all I remember is running. I ran as fast and as far as I could, trying to outpace my shame. I knew my friends would be livid, to say nothing of their parents who’d lost their pitcher. I hid in the nearby woods for hours, by adult standards this time.
It was likely one of my earliest panic attacks. I remember centering myself by focusing on the sounds of a stream until nightfall, when my friends and grandmother eventually found me. They were more concerned with my disappearance than having to replace a glass pitcher.
The experience proves to me that the anxiety I still struggle with has been a lifelong journey. It also reminds me that ignoring your problems won’t solve them – sometimes you have to dive in and make a difference however you can, one step at a time.
That’s exactly what entertainers are doing throughout Tampa Bay and Central Florida. In this issue we examine a number of efforts to safely navigate COVID-19 while staging a comeback for the arts.
In national entertainment news, Javicia Leslie dons a cape and cowl on the CW’s “Batwoman.” She discusses LGBTQ representation and more as Tampa Bay makes strides of its own. In local news, St. Petersburg City Councilmember Darden Rice announces her historic bid for mayor and State Rep. Michele Rayner takes on Florida’s antiquated stance on marriage equality.
Watermark strives to bring you a variety of stories, your stories. Please stay safe, stay informed and enjoy this latest issue.
