Tell me more

I've said before that I don't like the uncertainty about my future. I want to know what's coming down the line so I can prepare for it.

I know a lot of people (such as Jenny) like that uncertainty about the future and don't want to know about it in advance. They want to be constantly surprised by events, they find that exciting rather than frustrating.

But I want to know what's in store. I have lots of unanswered questions. How long will I live? How much money will I need? How healthy will I be? Who will die first, me or Jenny? What shape will the public services be in? What sort of government will we have?

I would feel a lot more secure and confident if I knew what's lined up for me. I could plan my life a bit better, allow for disasters or triumphs, create a smoother path for myself. I wouldn't be suddenly overwhelmed by some unexpected catastrophe and be left floundering.

It's curious that I'm so bothered by uncertainty this late in life, when my future is relatively short. When I was young and my future stretched ahead of me for endless decades, the much greater uncertainty didn't faze me at all. I just sailed along blithely, unheeding of what the next day would bring.

For me, this walking into the unknown is quite disconcerting. It makes the rest of my life too nebulous, too hazy.

Go with the flow

Anxiety is seen as something very abnormal that we shouldn't be experien-cing. The assumption is that it needs to be banished or at least greatly reduced. But is that right? We live in an increasingly uncertain world in which the future is far from predictable, so isn't anxiety a rather normal reaction to what's going on around us?

There's climate breakdown, the invasion of Ukraine, the cost of living crisis and the crumbling NHS, just to pick the most obvious problems.

Yet we're told we should be free of anxiety and trundling along happily in our little domestic bubble, not paying too much attention to what's happening in the rest of the world. Just go with the flow and follow your instincts.

But if more and more people are saying they suffer from acute anxiety, doesn't that suggest that anxiety is actually a normal reaction and that calmness and serenity (or whatever is the opposite of anxiety) are not normal at all?

In which case, what needs adjusting is not our individual reactions, which are perfectly healthy, but the world around us that's causing those reactions?

I've been an anxious person for decades, and no matter what I do to lessen the anxiety, it stubbornly persists. And I think it's significant that I wasn't anxious as a child but very happy-go-lucky and carefree. It was only as I got older and learnt more about the wider world that my anxiety developed. Is that really so surprising?

Perhaps we should live with our anxiety as a healthy emotion and not bust a gut trying to get rid of it.

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Five comments failed to appear on my last blog post. Only two comments were missing on this one. Things are improving.

Give us a clue

I don't like uncert-ainty. Or at least not the type of uncertainty that significantly affects my life. It makes me feel too vulnerable, too adrift.

Some people thrive on uncertainty. For them, the more of it the better. They love having absolutely no idea what the future will bring and what fate's going to throw at them. They find it exciting, stimulating, challenging.

I don't feel that at all. I would feel a lot more secure and confident if I knew what's in store for me. How much money I'll have, whether I'll get a serious illness, when I'm going to die, whether I'll lose my mind.

If I knew all that, at least I could plan my life a bit better, allow for disasters or triumphs, create a smoother path for myself. I wouldn't be suddenly overwhelmed by some unexpected catastrophe and be left floundering.

Small uncertainties, those that have no major effect on my life one way or the other, don't bother me. What the weather's going to do, whether I can get a vegetarian sandwich, whether my new jeans will run in the wash - those I can deal with. It's the big uncertainties, the potentially life-changing uncertainties, that freak me out.

It's curious that I'm so bothered by uncertainty this late in life, when my future is relatively short. When I was young and my future stretched ahead of me indefinitely like Route 66, the much greater uncertainty didn't phase me at all. I just sailed along blithely, unheeding of what the next day would bring.

How did this strange quirk come about, I wonder?

Man hunt

Once again, people are saying there's a "crisis in masculinity", that men are paralysed by uncertainty, no longer knowing what it means to be masculine. They just can't function, the poor dears, without some clear-cut definitive gender role to help them on their way.

Well, pardon me, but I think this alleged crisis is pure bullshit. Who cares about masculinity anyway? Why are men so hung up on this irrelevant concept? What the hell does it mean in any case?

It's one of those nebulous terms that changes meaning about every five minutes. Ask a hundred people what it means and they'll all give you a different definition. It's about as clear-cut as San Francisco fog. If it means anything at all, it's mostly negative qualities like toughness, aggression, hardness, lack of emotion, insensitivity and stubbornness.

I've got a much better suggestion for all those men rushing after their elusive masculinity. Why not kiss it goodbye and concentrate on being a human being, a valued friend, a decent person, a caring citizen? Much easier to understand and it does everyone a lot more good. I mean, who would you prefer - someone "masculine" or a trusted friend who helps you through a tough time? Isn't that a no-brainer?

Who cares if  a man is "gender-confident"? I would just want him to be someone I can talk freely to, someone who understands my hang-ups and my complexities, someone who's encouraging and sympathetic, someone who accepts me for what I am. Isn't that what we're really searching for?

All these well-meaning pundits are missing the point. They're chasing after something that simply doesn't matter. It's not a crisis of masculinity, it's a crisis of character, of decency, of compassion. Let's start looking in the right place.

Fear of the future

My regular readers will know about my fear of darkness. But it's only just dawned on me that I also have a fear of the future*.

It came to me in a blinding flash. I was thinking about my various anxieties and realised they all had a common theme - I was nervous of what might happen in the years ahead.

I'm happy enough with the past. I don't regret anything I've done, and by and large I don't wish I had had a different sort of life. Fate has been kind to me and sent me wonderful opportunities and experiences. And the present is okay too. Whatever I'm doing, whoever I'm with, I just try to get the best out of it and make light of the negatives.

But the future's a different matter. It's so uncertain. There's no guarantee it'll be as pleasurable as the past, that things will go as smoothly, that I'll still be able to cope with whatever's flung at me. Disaster is as possible as good fortune. Unhappiness is as possible as joy.

I envy those who assume the future can only mean more pleasure, more success, more wisdom, a constant movement onwards and upwards. I just don't have that confidence, that faith.

Maybe it's because life has been so good to me up till now I'm afraid it can only be less good in the future. My luck can't hold forever. Maybe it's because I'm getting older and therefore likely to become physically frail or senile. Maybe it's because I know how easily some unexpected turn of events can shatter a comfortable existence.

Whatever the cause, I can't see any obvious way of combatting this fear. However much I tell myself there's no point in worrying about the future, precisely because it's unpredictable and unknowable, and because none of my imagined scary scenarios might actually happen, it doesn't stop the anxieties bubbling to the surface and stubbornly persisting. I can rationalise and intellectualise all I like, the rest of my brain takes no notice.

All I can do with this annoying syndrome, like all my other weird quirks, is to minimise it and stop it spoiling my enjoyment of life. I must let the future take care of itself.

PS: Maybe I'm going over the top here. If it's only the possible misfortunes I'm afraid of, and not the pleasures, maybe it's simply a fear of disaster. Or as the therapist Fritz Perls put it, catastrophic expectations. Or pessimism....

* Oddly enough, there seems to be no technical term for this particular phobia

Tell me the future

I don't like the uncertainty of the future, it niggles at me. But a lot of people enjoy it. They relish not knowing what's going to happen tomorrow or next month or next year, and they would hate to know exactly what the future holds.

I would love to know what it holds. How long I'm going to live, whether I'm going to get a serious illness, how long Jenny and my mother and sister are going to live, how much money I'm going to have, whether we're all doomed by global warming.

If I knew the answers to all these imponderables I'd be better able to plan ahead and prevent a lot of sudden crises and bad decisions. I'd know what and whom I should pay more attention to and what I could happily ignore.

But the uncertainty bugs me. I want clarity, I want parameters. I sometimes wake in the middle of the night, pondering all these unknowns yet again and wondering how they will all pan out. I'll lie there for an hour mulling them over and obviously getting no answers, just losing some precious sleep.

Other people are equally adamant they don't want to know what's coming. If they're about to get a windfall, or a plum job, or meet the love of their life, they want it to be a wonderful surprise. Or if some disaster is going to befall them, they'd rather not know until it actually confronts them. Wouldn't it be rather depressing, they say, if you knew a whole string of tragedies was coming your way?

Well, maybe or maybe not. If you knew they were coming, perhaps you could avert them. Or if they were inevitable, you could make the most of your present opportunities. If you knew your loved one was going to die, you could take that holiday of a lifetime or buy them that stunning £1000 dress/ suit before they went.

I need to know my destiny. I need a Tardis.