I don't want to make this blog be one that I only write in when I am sad or anxious. I don't want to always complain about this and that (and without a doubt end up sounding ungrateful, selfish, and whiney). BUUUT...
Today I have been anxious.
Surprised? I didn't think so. This anxiety has been totally caused by me and me alone. I could have prevented it, but I didn't. So I shouldn't complain. Then why am I even mentioning that I feel anxious? Perhaps I want to purge myself of a little bit of my anxiety by telling all 17 of you. Maybe I think someone would benefit from reading this because they would be able to relate. But is the real reason why I am boo hooing on my blog because I want some kind of sympathy? Pity? Hug? I am guessing it's a mixture of all of these things. Also, I am just passing time.
What to say about my anxiety... Maybe just that it's real? I wonder sometimes if people think I am making it up or exaggerating just how anxious I get because let's admit it-- I can be a rather dramatic person. But I can also be a really quiet, closed off person as well. And non-confrontational (well, except for lately...). Put these things together and you've got a classic case of the "let things build up until you explode and have a hysterical breakdown" syndrome. Is that a syndrome? Well, it doesn't matter. What matters is that I need to take better care of myself. And I don't mean physically, even though that is very important. I mean emotionally, spiritually, mentally. Lately I have found myself pushing through each day, trying to be funny, cheerful, in the moment, etc. But my feet end up dragging and everything in my brain turns to static and I do all I can just to not start crying. MIND YOU that not all days are like this. I have my very peaceful, content moments; however, I fear that my emotionally exhausting days are far too often than they should be.
What am I so sad and anxious about?
This is what gets me. I feel guilty (and therefore sadder and more anxious) about feeling so gloomy. I have so much going for me. Really. SO much. There are wonderful people in my life who care deeply about me. I am doing well in school, I get to be the features editor for the newspaper, I overall have my health, although I do not currently have a job I have enough money to get me by, and the list goes on. So it should be easy enough to just say "snap out of it" and then, well, snap out of it. Then I can magically turn into a happy person 24/7. Right? To be honest, that does work sometimes. I believe that if you want to be happy, if you say you are happy (even if you are kind of lying), then you can truly be happy. And then I start thinking about what "happy" really even means and why everyone needs to be happy... But perhaps I will save that for another post. My point is... My point is that depression is sure a bitch. It's a struggle, a lifelong struggle. And damnit, so is my eating disorder (which is definitely another post, a post I have already written... probably numerous times...). I just want an understanding ear. I want a patient hearts. I want a sympathetic shoulder to cry on. I want someone to break down my walls even when I say I want to be alone (I don't, I really don't... defense mechanism at its finest). Let me just say that I DO have these things. And I want to thank all of you who are there for me. It means a lot.
I want a breath of fresh air. I want to be okay.
I want to make this post better, but the computer lab is closing. Time to publish this and then go to sleep and then wake up in the morning and feel slightly embarrassed/nervous that I published this.
Catch ya l8r, sk8rs.