I am guilty of being entirely negative about myself on a minute by minute basis. I need (or at least I think I need) constant reassurance, and affirmation on myself in pretty much every aspect of life. I know this is annoying to everyone who comes in contact with me, and I know it makes me hard to be around. I sense my neediness is the number one reason why I didn’t have many friends in High School or College and why the few I did have are no longer in my life. I get anxious when planning get together’s with people because I instantly feel uncomfortable walking out of my house, driving to a location, and then having to make conversation for a indefinite amount of time.
While I am outgoing, it’s all forced and awkward. I have to tell myself to shut up at times because I know my topics are usually inappropriate or not interesting.
I find this happens a lot with my husbands coworkers. We will be in a situation where I am ‘forced’ to converse and I bring up things like Credit Limits, or how I got alcohol poisoning on Jason’s 21st Birthday Weekend.
I feel awkward in 99% of clothes (the 1% being my PJs). This summer My husband and I went to the beach, and I didn’t even get in the water because I was so self conscious about how I looked in my bathing suit. I know that made him sad. I know all he wanted was for me to be at ease and comfortable in one of his favorite places, but I couldn’t make myself.
I am 100% content being a shut in and watching TV or Movies and living vicariously through the other people in my life who are off gallivanting the world doing amazing, beautiful, amazing things. I’m comfortable at home singing along to Sara Bareilles while thinking up story lines, and writing in my journals, this blog, or just on scrap paper. The deck in my backyard is my largest venture out that I can still feel at ease in.
There are times where the anxiety builds so much, I come across as a selfish bitch that turns to her husband and says “I need to leave.” I get the sweats, and shakes, and a headache. Yesterday, at my Dad’s birthday dinner, I had chest pains through the majority of the outing because of the closeness of our group at the small table. I was against the wall, and the screaming child behind me through 80% of the meal just became almost too much.
I can be okay, I can be safe, I can be in control in my house.
But I’m really not. It’s obvious I am not. This is why there are so many things we want to do, but we don’t. I want to go to Africa next summer for a missions trip, and while now, with it millions of days away, I am at ease with the choice to go, I am thinking of the months leading up to it, and how flying across the Atlantic Ocean – Alone – will be terrifying. How the irrational fears jump up inside me and that voice in my head – The one that sounds like Morgan Freeman (Because he narrates my life, even the bad parts) – says “Don’t do it. You know better. You leave these walls, you leave your shelter.”
So what do I do?
Do I go back to my doctor, and tell her the crazy pills she put me on aren’t working – in fact they have made me worse to the point of where I have stopped taking them completely, and now the paranoia, depression, and anxiety is crushing?
Do I just run more? and harder?
Do I wallow?
Jason wants me to go back to the doctor. I think he is right, but at the same time taking those meds is like putting in ear plugs at a concert. You can still hear the music, but it’s muffled and the moment isn’t the same. I don’t want to lose bits and pieces of myself because of this condition.
I barely slept last night – like I can tell you exactly every time I looked at the clock and I saw every hour of my sleepless night shown in red glowing numbers. I barely slept knowing I would write this post, and all the people from my past that still read this blog to snicker, or write hateful, hurtful comments (which is why I approve every comment now, because I was deleting upwards of 10-15 a day from people.. I know who they are because they have IP addresses that give their secrets away), or those who tell other people in their lives how horrible I am, and then it gets back to my husband.
He is the real victim in this. He wasn’t made privy to my carelessness for my own existence. He wasn’t given the full scope of what he was legally binding himself to. He says he doesn’t care, and that he loves me anyway, but I can see the draining tiredness in his eyes when I say – for the millionth time – I’m just sad.
So I am trying something new, today, in fact.
I love this shirt I am wearing. It’s a great color, comfortable fabric, looks good with jeans or dress pants (and most likely a skirt too, but I’m covered in mosquito bites, so until tights can be worn, I’ll never know). I think it fits me well, and judging by this forced smile in my picture, I like how I look in it.
I ran 10 miles on Friday. 10 miles. Depending on who is reading this, 10 miles might be a warm up for you, or something you never think you will accomplish. But I did it anyways.
I’m in my last semester before my internship starts in the Spring. As long as I pass the Praxis II in October – I will be venturing into a new career – which is both terrifying and amazing at the same time.
Today is my Dad’s 61st Birthday. He is truly a rock on which I lean a lot. I need to remember his strength and faith when I forget my own.
I am loved, even if only by few, those people count – and in talent, personality, and character they outweigh the negative people that are no longer in my life.
It’s a process, one I am trying to get the hang of.