Anxiety, you little troll!

Anxiety – I have it in bounds. I feel like I’m constantly under pressure, I mean who isn’t? I haven’t felt like I am stretched too thin in a while, but right now I do. It’s like trying to hold water in the cup of your hand. Too much water and it seeps through your fingers, no matter how tight you squeeze them. Too little water and you get cocky, you think to yourself “I’ve got this!” and add more water… It’s such a vicious cycle.

Look, I do realise that my problems aren’t grand by any scale and that I probably just have a lot on my plate and feel emotionally pummelled by it. But I want to acknowledge it, I usually feel better after a good word vomit purge, so bear with me.

Lately, I find myself sighing inwardly over small chores that normally would not bother me. My patience wears thin over daily tasks and even simple conversations are taxing. I feel overwhelmed by the smallest things, I can’t seem to make the simplest decision, I fret over inane things and I don’t sleep well (I’m too busy worrying about the stuff I can’t change to sleep, you know?)

I understand and accept that I am emotional, that I’ve been shaped by events in my life (or maybe I was simply born this way, who knows?) But, it’s ridiculous, I’m on the verge of tears over small things and get frustrated about nonsense and act out like a petulant child about stupid things.

And don’t get me started on the self-doubt. Oh, crikey the self-doubt is eating at me like a persistent emotional troll. No amount of shoo’ing will deter the bridge-dwelling little bastard! Self-doubt (and self-admonishment) about everything.little.thing. Am I making the right choices? Am I doing enough? Am I doing too much? You could have done more. Should I do this? Get your act together woman! What’s the other option? Is this a good idea? Stop procrastinating! Should I rather do that? I know what you’re thinking – Dramatic much? But, it’s my reality and the truth is that, as beautiful and rewarding as this life is, it’s also full of tough choices with shitty outcomes either way.

I put so much pressure on myself to have it together, but sometimes it’s by sheer will alone that I get through the day without dissolving into a muddled pile of hysteria. I compartmentalise things – it’s how I have coped with life to this point. I keep things in neat little (black or white) boxes, that way I get to choose when to open a box and take things out or when to put something into a box and store it in a very dark, dusty corner where I can ignore its existence deal with it another time.

Emotionally, I like to think that I am black and white. I try not to have any grey areas in my life, it just gets too complicated. Black and white is safe! Grey areas (or boxes if you will) are scary and usually don’t bode well for the emotional creature that I am. I’m increasingly find myself rummaging around in grey boxes that I’ve forgotten I own, and it scares the pants off me.

But, let’s not get too morbid and mopey. On the bright side, I have someone who loves me, friends who get me, and a family who support me. So, it’s not all bad. Plus, I have wine…

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