Warning: possibly uncomfortable-to-read personal truths ahead. I
either go full blunt honesty in my blog posts or I don't post at all. Here
goes.
It's a strange combination of relief and terror to read a list
like this and realize you see yourself in each
one. On one hand, it's nice to know I'm not alone, but on the other
hand I can't remember the last time I didn't have at least a couple of
these show up in my daily life.
- I sometimes
suddenly feel suffocated at social events.
- I pick at my
cuticles and don't even notice until I'm bleeding.
- I react strongly
to certain noises and get irritated much faster than may seem appropriate.
- I have panic
attacks when my brain gets too busy and I can't rationalize quick enough
to calm myself down.
- I put my own
needs on the back-burner if it'll be an inconvenience to someone else.
- I sometimes talk myself out of having feelings for someone if I sense they won't be able to handle anxiety like mine. Or, I intentionally sabotage the possibility and push them away because it's easier to blame myself upfront than wait for them to come to that conclusion on their own.
Without knowing it was happening, anxiety (and depression,
but that's another story.) has changed and rearranged much of my life to the point I can hardly remember older versions of myself. But since I
appear "fine" to the rest of the world, when these behaviors
start to manifest in public settings the anxiety ramps up because if anyone
asks, there's no obvious explanation as to why.
The most prominent thought in my mind on a daily basis is the need
to DO something. I have an undercurrent of thrill-seeking I don't often get to
indulge and it makes me a little stir-crazy on occasion. I get restless and
fidgety. I feel like I need to go for a run, or hop on the next flight away
from here, or sing at the top of my lungs just to try and release the
pent-up something that weighs on my chest.
When someone says something that
makes me feel like I'm losing control of a situation or makes me feel
boxed-in, it goes into hyper drive.
Adding fuel to fire is the fact I hate being a burden to people.
Even if I'm told I'm not, and that they really want to know how I am, I will never be completely sure they mean it. I rarely open up to
anybody about myself and my life. If I do, it sure as hell took a lot out of me
to share. I'm a picky person when it comes to who I choose to trust with
personal information. Even once I do decide to trust someone, there's a part of
me that is fearful they will use what I share with them in confidence against
me in the future when they finally tire of hearing about what is on my mind and
heart.
There is an ongoing war in my head between what I know and what
I feel. I know some people care, but I feel judged when I turn my back.
I know I'm loved, but I feel merely tolerated.
I know I'm broken. I know this isn't the way things are supposed to
be. But since this anxiety has become a part of who I am, I have to
figure out how to live with it.
I am somewhere between closed-off and an open book. I don't have
a problem sharing, but it winds up being indirectly with relative vagueness. I
want to explain who I am. I want people to understand me. But there's only so
much of that I can expect from others if I don't even entirely know myself. So,
this is an attempt to clear away some of the brush I've let grow around me
in recent years. Please be patient with me. Be patient with each other. In ways
we cannot always see or fathom, all of us are in the midst of some kind of
battle.
Sometimes that battle is with ourselves.
I used to write all the time. Even if I didn't share it, I wrote.
Not so much anymore. Part of that is due to the fears and inadequacies I've
felt take root in my mind, heart, and soul.
I am an imperfect perfectionist.
I'm my own worst critic. I'm just enough type A with a hint of
OCD and ambivalence that I often wind up doing nothing to avoid failure because
my heart can't take it. But I am tired of not doing anything.
So, I sat down and forced myself to write.
