Work itself wasn't too bad today, especially since Big Bossman, Lead Paralegal and Bad Accountant Lawyer weren't in. That meant shirts got untucked, music got turned up and a more relaxes atmosphere. Yesterday, Sweet and I were trying to compare the bosses to the panel of judges on American Idol, a conversation I continued with Comedic Actress. Everyone agrees that Bad Accountant Lawyer, who I've learned flies up from Boca and writes notes in all caps to emphasize her anger, is Simon Cowell. Comedic Actress thinks Lead Paralegal could be Paula Abdul because both are losing their minds but I think it's actually Big Bossman. He's easily said the most random and stupid things in the department.

One time, I heard him whine out of his office, "Does anyone have gum?" and, one by one, everyone within earshot said, "No."

Disappointed, he kept on: "But I need gum!"

I was sad to see Lit Major go but congratulations to her for getting out of here. I wish that for everybody. I think Sweet's afternoon activity expressed so much on behalf of all of us: By the time 4:30 rolled around, she was completely passed out, head down on her desk.

HR Lady stopped by to orient Wide Eyes to the time clock and mentioned to me that I should be concerned that I'm not properly getting compensated for my time, which is the first time I've felt like she's been an ally at all to me. She told me to send e-mails to Payroll to update my time sheets with the proper figures, which I will most certainly do.

I changed my clothes after hours and went to the cell phone store where I got upset because, even though I have tons of reasons to get a sleek smartphone and only a couple reasons not to, I couldn't bring myself to get my credit card out. Then I headed to Chelsea for a couple Irish coffees because I had a couple hours to kill before helping a friend move into a new apartment. The drinks made me feel incredibly good and I even got chatty with strangers. I rode uptown to Morningside Heights to move my friend into his apartment from 9 to 11 and then ate around 11:30. We arrived at The Duplex at 1 and I stayed for just one drink, that's how tired I was. By the time I got home, around 3:45, I imagine I looked a lot like Sweet on her desk.

The new guy is soft spoken and has arresting light blue eyes with huge pupils, and it was my task to train him today.

Nice, I thought, I'm almost exactly where Comedic Actress was in terms of tenure and knowledge when she trained me. The poor guy seemed inundated by the amount of jargon I threw at him and, though I tried to explain why certain things are the way they are, he took really anemic notes. He's so wide eyed, I thought, even though he's worked as a freelance writer and lived for the past 2 years in Budapest, copy editing academic materials to be assembled into books.

I started him off with a dummy and he seemed okay with that, if a little slow, though I wonder if I'm being hard on him. He's from the same recruiter who sent me, only she warned him about the feedback issue.

I had fairly long chats with both Sweet and Comedic Actress about how disjointed both management and operating styles run here. Sweet said it was likely due to "massive cutbacks" over the last few years, and Comedic Actress said it just added to the stress in our environment.

I still have to find out where to find pastry for Lit Major's last day tomorrow and anxiously await being moved into the Land of the Living next week.

When she made the decision, Lead Paralegal said, "I don't know how you can stand it in there. It's so fuckin' crappy in there."

"I've been here 2 and a half years and I need to get out," she said. "No reviews, no raises — it's just when the shit hits the wall, you're out. The only reason I stay is it pays the bills."

She told me her degree is in psychology and criminal justice, just like Comedic Actress, so I suggested they chat about recruiters. Then I said my normal recruiter at the agency that sent me deals with magazines and book publishers and she told me her boyfriend works at AP, so I gave her my résumés — apparently AP just filled admin assistant positions last week.

I also learned that most of the people in the department have been here less than a year and the senior guy worked 35 hours a week — full-time for sure — but as listed as a part-time intern until this month, so he didn't receive benefits. Of course, that's illegal, which is ironic, considering it's a law firm. The big news is that the lead paralegal has lost her feistiness and just doesn't show up most days, so the rumor is that she'll resign soon.

"You didn't hear that from me," Sweet urged.

"Hear what?" I said.

"Good."

That also means that my allies are leaving.

Most of last week's doldrums began to pay off today as a lot of files came back to me for corrections, which is a lot more exciting than reading things for the first time. One such file listed a person's address as a P.O. box. Only on the first page does it specify a domicile, so I left it throughout the rest of the document, only to get it back with a note that said, "There is no way this is OK if the first page is different."

Again, how was I supposed to know that? It's just like the sadistic card game Mao, where only the dealer knows the rules and you get penalized for doing things incorrectly. I am to make documents conform to a standard that I am becoming ever more convinced doesn't exist.

The HR lady called me back with a response to my morning inquiry about why my time sheets don't reflect how much time I log in — both that her arithmetic sucks and a guess that I'm not getting compensated before 9 a.m. which, combined with a quarter hourly ratchet, may account for the discrepancies but, then again, they may not. She told me to call Payroll for a definitive answer. The only catch was this was at 4:30, so there wasn't enough time to get that answer. Still, something seems fishy so I'll have to crunch the numbers further. The worst part is that she uses the HR Voice which is supposed to sound like she's everybody's friend, except she's not. As Sweet said this morning, "HR is supposed to be on your side and they never are here."

"Well, we all know what her e-mail said about Odd Job," I said.

"Exactly."

I stood in a line waiting for the time clock, which runs earlier than every clock — computer, cell phone and subway — to hit 5 o'clock, so I could punch out exactly.

My hair guy got promoted from apprentice to stylist so his price went up $20 and I won't be able to come back to him unless I get a better job but, at least for now, I look terrific.

I confirmed with HR that we would indeed not be paid for the two hours we get off today or for the Monday holiday like the regular employees would, and that made the time off lose all its appeal. At least give me some kind of equity, goddamnit. That meant I was being forced to work through lunch, literally for nothing. I also called the agency I'm working through at this shitshow and I'm still waiting for two paychecks from them, and I'm out of cash. They said they had already been mailed.

At least Lit Major came in. She was 2 hours late and Comedic Actress and I were afraid maybe, like Agatha Christie's Little Indians, that then there were two. Better yet, though, she announced that one of the jobs she'd applied for, as director of a Russian ballet summer camp — with the Bolshoi Ballet! — had extended an offer. She talked them up on salary but they were stingy with paid time off, way less than even a poor nonprofit, so I said I thought some negotiation was in order, as were my congratulations. This meant she also leaves next Friday.

Sassy had asked me to do a rush job, a file where nobody was alive or able to be found, so only an attorney would collect the settlement because he was the estate representative. That should have made things easier but it didn't — the math was wrong, all the standard language had to be changed, and I didn't know lawyers still required certain forms. This meant I made several mistakes, though to be fair, so did she. Nonetheless, I began to feel useless, that I couldn't even do a job I hate. I contemplated sending out text messages to friends that said, "Please kill me."

3 o'clock rolled around and I punched out for the first time right at quitting time. I normally like to punch in early, take a shortened lunch and punch out late so I can cheat some extra money out of the system with minimal effort. I walked as fast as my slip-ons would take me to the train stop, getting there around 3:10. By 3:45, 4 expresses to my neighborhood but none toward the K-Mart store where I needed to shop. I took a later transfer at a stop along the way, which arrived around 4:15 and realized it took an hour just to get on the right train.

As I walked around the gargantuan discount department store, I looked around at all these things — things that I had no relation to, no desire, no opinion one way or another — they were just things, taking up space. I wrote another imaginary text message in my head with the appropriate accompanying scene from Creepshow: "Don't kill me, I'm already dead."

I'm definitely eating dessert tonight and I might grab a drink afterward.

Sassy annoyed me today when I tried to save a trip by picking up a new file to work on from one of the overflowing bins.

"Are you finished with that file I gave you this morning?" she asked.

"No, but I always do corrections first," I said, meaning that I was getting to hers next.

It could have stopped there but she just had to press it.

"I need you to finish what's on your desk before picking up anything new because I'm waiting for things to come back."

I wanted to say, "Look, bitch, I just told you I get things out the door before starting anything new and that I'd get yours done before I started this one. Don't you have any other work to do?" but instead I said, "Of course."

Comedic Actress had to go and top it off by informing me that one of the paralegals quit on bad terms at the end of yesterday and she guessed we also wouldn't be getting paid for the two hours early we're supposed to leave tomorrow or for Labor Day. We also have to take lunch at our desks.

Whatever. I have to book it before the cleaners close. I hope I'm in better spirits for tonight's birthday party.

A short while after that, I developed an earworm, one of those songs that repeats in your head but only incompletely. It's not uncommon for me but today was extra special: It was the beginning and end of the theme from "Maude." Over and over, I kept hearing, "Lady Godiva was a freedom rider ... and then there's Maude/ And then there's Maude!" and a polyestered Bea Arthur threw her head back in laughter and the frame froze. The biggest problem was that I've never seen an episode of "Maude," so I don't know where this partial opening credits sequence was coming from.

Comedic Actress noticed my fatigue straightaway. She said she thought it was "just the job" and remarked that it looked like I was about to cry. It's not the first time I've been told that, so I went to the bathroom and my watery eyes did make me look on the verge of tears, but there was no sorrow, no wrinkled face or downturned lips, so what would I cry about with that expression on my face? Probably about getting screwed out of my portion of the estate settlement, that's what.

Then I got a file that concerned a woman named Mariel and I immediately began playing the self-admittance scene from Muriel's Wedding, after Muriel has changed her identity and her name to Mariel ("If I get married, it means I've changed, I'm a new person."

"How?"

"Because who'd want to marry me!") and then the opening credit sequence to the early '90s prime time drama, "Civil Wars" with Debi Mazar, Alan Rosenberg and ... Mariel Hemingway.

Maybe I focus too much on the unimportant minutae when I'm tired.

It was bad enough where I had to buy a red eye from Starbucks on my morning break, even though there's free brown water in the office's "kitchen," and an egg sandwich, even though I already had a Yoplait.

Both Comedic Actress and Lit Major asked me questions today, which shocked me and made me feel powerful — I can't imagine what kind of knowledge I might have that they don't.

It struck me that Sassy must be fairly new here, maybe a year or so of tenure, because she gets a lot more stressed out, makes more mistakes and knows less about the process than Sweet does, and her status as my favorite diminished, even though I really stopped playing favorites as soon as I met Sweet. Sweet's been here nearly 2 and a half years.

I stopped by an AT&T store at lunch to find out how one starts a family plan with the main line in another state, and a petite blonde with a Bluetooth headset told me that the master line would be started in the other state and I'd basically sit here and wait and hope I had service, which made me laugh because it seems so helpless and futile. I then bought my usual salad and followed it up with another red eye.

Sweet stopped by at 3:30 and asked if I was busy. I said I just had corrections and she asked if I'd do a rush that needed to be blue lined today, meaning it had to be completely finalized and out the door today.

"Sure," I said.

"I like how your tone of voice just changed," she said, almost giggling. "You just became very serious."

The rush was a single comp and dummy with 6 defendants, wrong addresses, missing business names and 10-key errors. I put my headphones on and found the zone which, in a perverse way, I found pleasurably challenging. I got it back to her at 4:45, a record for me. Luckily the verbage itself was all correct and intact.

"Do you mind staying?" she said, looking sheepish. "I'm not going to be here tomorrow or Friday."

"No, not at all," I said. I couldn't believe the words that were escaping my lips.

She had missed a few corrections and we worked through it with me standing behind her, waiting for the corrected pages to print.

Sweet told me, once the file was finished and ready to go, that she used to stay until 10 but now that school was back in session, she only stayed until 7. Then she told me we get to leave early on Friday — 3 o'clock, with the last 2 hours paid because of Labor Day. Apparently the firm does that every time there is a Monday holiday. That was the best news I got all day.

I clocked out at 5 minutes until 6 and wondered if it was worth the extra 15 dollars minus 24.6 percent in taxes.

On my way back from the train, I found out that the new dry cleaners by the station are open until 7 everyday except Sunday and that all of their service is next-day, but each item is 4 dollars less 20 percent for their grand opening sale.

Ouch.

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I was too early for the free newspaper guy but the young blond suit and I made eye contact a few times today. Now I doubt if he's actually checking me out, but I'm definitely checking him out. I'm still too shy and "subtle" for the unspoken language of cruising, so we'll see where it goes. He carries a nice bag, which definitely wins him some points.

I sent an e-mail to the temp agency this morning and it turned into a minor ordeal. In the message, I said I would work here as long as I could but thought recruiters should know that we haven't been trained and receive no feedback about our performance, so we don't know if we'll be canned at any moment, so please keep me in mind for future assignments. That resulted in a call to the agency's contact in HR, who then called the lead paralegal, who is on her second day back from maternity leave. She asked if "there was a problem." I told her none of us know how we're doing because we don't hear anything about what kind of a job we're doing.

"Oh, is that all," she said with a shrug.

Comedic Actress pointed out that that would have been the perfect moment to, oh, I don't know, provide some feedback.

She ended up talking to the HR gal, who then called my recruiter back to say that "they love the job we're doing" and they're "really happy" with us. Apparently they "liked Odd Job as a person but she just wasn't the right fit."

Oh? Not the right fit — is that the same as "not worth training?"

One of the things I despise most in this world is lip service. Lip service is what comes out of the mouths of people who insist on talking in the absence of real tact and it doesn't placate anyone except those who want to hear it.

The lead paralegal is, I am told, not well liked in the Willy Loman sense. She showed me a bit more about how to read Marie's notes and where she gets some of her numbers, and I had to explain it to Sassy and my fellow temps. Teaching allowed me a brief moment of pleasure, even if the knowledge I imparted and the subsequent questions about it were completely useless and idiosyncratic.

Most of the rest of the day involved burying my face into "rush" files, meaning do them as soon as possible, they need to leave the building today. That meant I didn't get a whole lot of face time with anyone today — again. I found a 16-cent mistake in one of the files and I'm afraid to bring it up, even though Sweet told me to mark it with a note that bluntly says, "Redo numbers." It doesn't help that the mistake is really obvious, so I don't know how to bring it up.

At least Sweet kept my sticky bow up on her cube wall. Had I known it was Sassy's birthday, I'd have brought her another one, too.

RÁ, RÁ, RÁ - Rir é bom e todo mundo sabe. Mas, mais que isso, rir faz bem para a saúde - física e mental. Isso porque, além de ativar diversas partes do organismo, rir é um ato social.

E este tipo de manifestação é tão natural e corriqueira que raramente alguém questiona os motivos de uma gargalhada ou suas conseqüências.

Fato é que, para rir, o ser humano gasta energia e faz o cérebro e, conseqüentemente, o corpo trabalharem muito. Para dizer pouco, uma boa risada só é possível graças a ação de circuitos neurais, sistemas sensorial, motor e límbico, cerebelo, hipocampo e lobo frontal, dependendo dos estímulos.

De acordo com um vasto estudo desenvolvido pela biomédica Silvia Helena Cardoso, do Núcleo de Informática Biomédica (NIB) da Universidade Estadual de Campinas (Unicamp), o ser humano tem duas maneiras básicas de desencadear o riso: uma por motivos sociais (quando está em convívio com outros da mesma espécie); e outra, por razões cognitivas (a capacidade de compreensão de piadas, filmes etc. e a capacidade de lembrar de fatos).

A área do cérebro responsável por sensações como a felicidade é o sistema límbico (região intermediária, que responde pelas emoções em geral). Mas é no neocórtex, morada de sensações cognitivas como a memória, a visão, a audição e a percepção, que fica o humor do ser humano.

História

Desde recém-nascido, o homem tem a capacidade de rir. "Entretanto, esta é a expressão motora do riso" , explica Sílvia. "Mesmo um cego congênito, que nunca viu ninguém rir, tem a mesma expressão do riso, pois o mecanismo já vem pronto. E o que vai fazer as pessoas rirem por motivos e de maneiras diferentes será o ambiente" , completa.

Segundo a pesquisadora, acredita se que a verdadeira origem do riso sejam as brincadeiras dos primatas, como as "brigas amigáveis" .

Apesar de terem o córtex bem menos desenvolvido que o do ser humano, os animais também possuem a capacidade social e motora de rir. "Eles não têm a característica cognitiva, que também pode não existir em um ser humano com lesões no córtex" , afirma Sílvia. "Mas também riem e até têm vocalizações iguais ao do riso humano."

Estímulos

O riso é contagiante. Quando uma pessoa ri, normalmente desencadeia a mesma expressão em outras de seu grupo. E isso ocorre porque o cérebro desenvolveu, ao longo da evolução humana, um mecanismo pré-programado de detecção. "O neurocientista Robert Provine sugere, em seus estudos, que temos um dispositivo cerebral detector do riso, uma rede neural que percebe quando uma outra pessoa está rindo e diz que você deve rir junto" , diz Sílvia.

As cócegas provocam o mesmo tipo de riso, pois também dependem da relação social, ou seja, da interação do homem com outro de sua espécie e do cérebro com o ambiente. "Precisamos de um estímulo externo para sentir cócegas. E esse estímulo precisa ser físico" , afirma a neurocientista.

Ao sentir o toque, o ser humano manda essa informação ao cerebelo. E ele é quem vai predizer as conseqüências do movimento. O sistema sensorial interpreta a ação e avisa o sistema motor que é hora de mexer a barriga, contrair os músculos e rir à vontade.

"Quando você faz cócegas em você mesmo, o cerebelo tem a capacidade refinadíssima de entender de onde está vindo este estímulo sensorial e dar a resposta da indiferença assim como daria a resposta do riso a um estímulo externo."

Anatomia

Rir faz bem não só para a mente e para a alma. Rir faz bem para o organismo.

As contrações dos músculos da parede torácica, abdome e diafragma fazem aumentar o fluxo sangüíneo dos órgãos internos e isso pode causar uma sensação agradável durante o ato de rir. "É uma reação típica mexermos a barriga enquanto rimos. Alguns estudos sugerem que esse movimento é como uma massagem nos órgãos internos e, por isso, um dos lados beneficiados pelo riso é o fisiológico" , diz Sílvia.

Outro motivo de o riso propiciar uma sensação de bem-estar e conforto é o fato de o sistema cardiovascular ser ativado enquanto rimos. "Ocorre o aumento da freqüência cardíaca e da pressão arterial. Posteriormente, a vasodilatação das artérias causa uma queda da pressão, que é benéfica principalmente para pessoas hipertensas."

Apesar de contrairmos alguns músculos, a tensão muscular geral diminui enquanto rimos. Em alguns casos, essa diminuição é tão significativa que pode fazer a pessoa perder o controle sobre os membros e "ficar mole de tanto rir" . "Há casos de quem precise sentar ou até mesmo caia no chão de tanto rir. Isso é reflexo desse relaxamento e perda de controle" , afirma a pesquisadora.

O riso é acompanhado de um considerável aumento da entrada de oxigênio e saída de dióxido de carbono. Por isso, é ideal que as vias aéreas estejam desobstruídas. Como o cérebro já é programado para isso, é comum as pessoas jogarem a cabeça para trás quando riem. Inconscientemente, elas estão trabalhando para liberar as vias respiratórias.

Essas e outras reações inerentes ao ato de rir têm explicações científicas, biomédicas.

Por que muitos ficam vermelhos quando riem? Segundo Sílvia e uma vasta literatura, o ato de rir provoca o aumento da vasodilatação. "A jugular fica parcialmente bloqueada por uma forte contração dos músculos do pescoço e isso impede o retorno venoso. As artérias da face se dilatam, propiciando então uma abertura maior para o fluxo sangüíneo, o que é bom para o organismo" , explica a biomédica.

Segundo ela, alguns estudos mostram que o riso reflete até mesmo no melhor funcionamento do sistema imunológico, aumentando a produção de células que trabalham contra infecções e fazendo crescer a produção de endorfinas. "Não é o que dizem? Que rir é o melhor remédio? Pois é, realmente."

Extremos

O riso é capaz de fazer as pessoas chegarem a alguns extremos. Muita gente já "quase fez xixi na calça de tanto rir" , certo? Ou fez. E esse é um extremo, diz Sílvia.

Isso ocorre porque, com o riso excessivo, o cérebro pode perder o controle do esfíncter urinário, uma espécie de válvula do corpo humano que segura a urina. "É como no caso da perda de controle do tonos muscular, que faz a pessoa cair no chão: aqui, o cérebro não consegue dominar o esfíncter. E aí a pessoa faz xixi na calça mesmo."

Outro extremo é o que se convencionou chamar de "ataque de riso" . É preciso explicar, porém, que os estudiosos do assunto usam esse termo somente para casos patológicos.

Ou seja, as gargalhadas - por mais que possam durar - não configuram um "ataque" , pois precisaram de um estímulo social ou cognitivo para existirem. Elas são um tipo de riso comum, só que mais longo, esclarece Sílvia. São provocadas por estímulos, ainda que só uma pessoa de um mesmo grupo os perceba.

Já o "ataque de riso" ocorre quando há danos nos circuitos neurais, responsáveis pela expressão motora do riso. "Nesses casos, a pessoa não ri por causa de um estímulo, mas sim porque não tem controle neural e motor sobre o riso."

God bless this woman. She's hyper-stylish but casual and has a very guy-friendly confrontational attitude and love for brown liquors. We talked about the usual food, music and sexual frustration and then she rehashed some of the past during our Santa Barbara and her San Diego days and it was if she had provided the missing link: Suddenly, 5 years of my life made so much more sense. I left her place with enough spirit, least of which was half a bottle of pinot grigio, to go and face the night.

I arrived at Pieces around 12:30 and enjoyed drinks paid for by out lovely karaoke host Matt and his boyfriend Manny. There were a couple pieces of eye candy too, though I intentionally left my eyeglasses in their case. I sang some Jamiroquai and Marvin Gaye to a real shitshow crowd, garnering comments like, "That was the best I've ever heard an Asian sing." I wanted to invite my lark-voiced friend Axxx over and then beat this guy to a useless pulp but got interrupted by Manny, who had bought me a kamikaze.

"I gotta go," I said.

"You're gonna close it down like the rest of us, so shut the fuck up and take the shot."

I already like Manny.

Sunday was the usual cleaning and laundry, except everything came out wrinkled, so I broke out the iron. When I got to my work shirts, I noticed oil stains on every one, so I dumped them in a bucket of detergent and decided my Monday would be spent at the laundry.

That also meant I headed out for work in less-than-my-favorite clothes, though my Winnie-The-Pooh necktie would prove popular at the office. I was very well connected with my id on the train. I pictured a sour-faced woman judging me to my face and I fantasized about beating her into a bloody mess. Then there was the young guy in that blue-gray-brown combination I can't pull off and I pictured myself making his voice go high-pitched as I hit his sweet spot and bit his neck.

The young blond suit looked at me again today and I got a better look at him: lanky, maybe Russian by descent, hair slightly thinning, a little less cute than I had thought, but that makes him seem more attainable, which means I might be in trouble. What kind of self-esteem disorder must I have when I thought I'd like to conquer New York City, one prostate at a time?

The office itself was uninspiring today. I wondered how I got through as many files as I did because I got tired and disengaged around 10:30 and it never let up. I was told that I'm not supposed to write on the dummy files with writing already on them because those are the personal notes of Marie, one of the higher ups, but how was I supposed to know that? I also had a double comp today where I couldn't verify some of the language I was supposed to add in and the accompanying numbers — not a proofreader's job, by the way — and I was told I needed to ask the lead paralegal in the department. Then I was told for double comps with two dummies, not to check both dummies, just to throw one of them away. Normally I love learning new things. In fact, it's one of the things I live for, but the things I'm learning, I realized, aren't applicable anywhere else, even if I were interested in probate law. Probate is one of the dirtiest kinds of law because nothing brings out the worst in people like the death of a loved one that results in people who should be mourning trying to muscle each other out of the way for a bigger piece of the pie. Not only that, but I'm learning things that should have been told to me from day one during a real training session.

Lit Major showed up early today and Comedic Actress said she told her intelligence recruiter that she'd prefer a job in DC, and the recruiter said she'd look into it. I didn't get to see much of them today anyway.

I still don't know how to e-mail my temp agency without coming off as whiny.

Todo mundo teme algo - assaltos, aviões, doenças, dentistas, solidão, entre outras coisas. Claro que a intensidade do medo é intensificada pelo histórico de vida de cada um. Portanto, diante de nossos pavores, só nos restam duas alternativas: lutar ou fugir.
Em princípio, lutar pode ser uma reação positiva. Isso não quer dizer que fugir seja uma reação negativa. Tudo depende da situação e é preciso reconhecer os próprios limites. Quando há uma situação de ameaça real à sua vida, o medo não é uma reação patológica, mas de proteção e autopreservação.

O mesmo não acontece quando estamos sob o domínio do pânico e o medo passa a tomar conta de nossa consciência. Quando em pânico, a pessoa nem foge nem enfrenta, mas fica paralisada e sem controle. Nesses casos, deve-se buscar a sua origem para conseguir agir.
Situações reais de perigo exigem discernimento, mas o medo irracional, sem causa real, deve ser enfrentado. Nosso inconsciente não diferencia fantasia de realidade. Por isso, ficar pensando em todas as vezes que não conseguiu, ou ainda, que nem adianta começar, baseando-se nas experiências anteriores negativas, fará com que sua mente reaja de acordo com esse pensamento, pois o medo nasce da associação que nossa mente estabelece com essas experiências, sem discernir que não ocorrerão mais. Sua mente não sabe distinguir o que é passado e presente, realidade e fantasia. E se esse seu pensamento continuar presente, sua mente irá acreditar nele como real.

Como surge o medo?

Além dos perigos iminentes e reais, nossos temores podem aparecer por causa das associações que fazemos ao longo da vida. Por exemplo, uma criança que teve sua casa destruída durante uma tempestade pode sentir-se ameaçada por uma tragédia toda vez que chover intensamente. Querendo ou não, sua mente fará essa relação. Ou pessoas que passaram por muitas privações quando crianças e que não tinham o que comer, ou "brigavam" com os irmãos pela comia, podem desenvolver uma tendência de comer exageradamente, como se sentissem, ainda que inconscientemente, medo de passar fome novamente ou então para compensar aquilo que não tiveram.

Isso pode ocorrer. Nossa mente inconsciente é atemporal: não tem passado nem futuro. É como se tudo estivesse sendo vivenciado no momento presente. Não há discernimento do que aconteceu, o passado e o presente se misturam. O medo de que não vai conseguir é muito comum e acaba interferindo diretamente na auto-estima, no amor-próprio e na autoconfiança. Uma pessoa que não age por medo de não conseguir, não acredita em sua capacidade e, assim, está perdendo também a oportunidade de reverter todo esse quadro.

Pode ainda haver o medo de aumentar mais o peso e, assim, ter problemas de saúde, sobrecarregar os órgãos, medo esse por motivos concretos que podem estimular muitos a mudar seus hábitos em busca de uma melhor qualidade de vida. Se você consegue, ao menos, pensar que pode enfrentar a situação, já é um progresso. Mas, e quando nada conseguimos fazer, a não ser sentir medo?

Quando alguém diz que não consegue, que vai desistir porque sabe que não irá conseguir, geralmente são pessoas que estão com a auto-estima muito baixa e que se amam muito pouco ou não se sentem capazes de cuidar de si mesmas. Querem fórmulas mágicas, resultados imediatos. Querem o impossível, pois assim fica mais fácil justificarem para si mesmas que irão desistir por medo.

Procure descobrir o que o medo simboliza para você, o que ele representa, pois, quanto mais o negamos, mais poderoso ele se torna. Explore seu medo, descubra o que está por trás dele. Se tiver dificuldade para fazer isso, busque ajuda profissional. A pessoa mais prejudicada nesse processo todo é você mesma. Por isso, arregace as mangas e trabalhe contra tudo isso, sem pensar em desistir. Afinal, ou o medo controla você ou você o controla. Qual você prefere?