i wish my anxiety hadn’t taken so much from me. i often think about what kind of person i would be if anxiety hadn’t been smushed onto my shoulders; squeezing its way into my brain; trailing behind me at every opportunity. i wonder what i would be like if my anxiety didn’t crush every situation; if my anxiety didn’t swallow me whole at the first sight of an invitation or event or crowd or interview. what would it be like to be someone else; someone without the sheer terror and panic that comes with anxiety.
i start to drift into this path of thinking, one that leads me down a dark slope into wanting to be someone else. wishing i didn’t carry all of this fear and anxiety and dread all the time. i sat in my therapist’s office just last week and unloaded the fact that the reason i am going through so much is because i keep wishing i was someone else who could deal with it all normally. wow, that sounds stupid and complicated. but in reality, i was hoping i could magically wish all of it off of me and suddenly become this normal, functioning adult.
nope. life doesn’t work like that. i am still here; contemplating the purpose of a savings account when life is so expensive. still here dreading the phone call to my ex-landlord. still here with a rising blood pressure even thinking about the emails i haven’t answered. still crying over friends who don’t treat me right. still talking to my therapist about the same people who make me mad and sad because they don’t appreciate me or post shout outs. still wondering why i can’t commit to a diet. i am still here. still figuring out my purpose in life. still hoping things will click. still here. still filtering the hell out of my photos so people don’t think i’ve gained too much weight. still pissed about the woman who asked if i was pregnant over the weekend. still processing the changes that happen with the holidays. still here. still me. still here.
this is the hand that i was dealt. and while all the suits are anxiety; it’s my hand nonetheless. i have to remind myself that this is my life and i was given this hand because i know when to hold em’ and i know when to fold em’. anxiety. depression. bipolar disorder. all three were cast on my shoulders at different times in my life. anxiety at six. depression at fifteen. bipolar at twenty. each one bringing new hardships, new challenges, new insights. i have to stop comparing myself to other people. to other people’s hands. i have to stop wishing i had a different set of cards. i have to stop wishing i was someone without anxiety; without depression; without bipolar disorder.
i have to stop putting myself next to everyone else and comparing where i am. my life is a journey with so many stops along the way. sometimes i stay at one place for longer than planned. sometimes i end up somewhere i never really planned on visiting. and often times, my stops are real train wrecks. but this is my journey and it’s not here to be compared.
i need to stop comparing myself. i need to stop caring about what other people think. i need to stop and look at what i am. what i have overcome. what i am doing.
because i should be proud of what my life is; in spite of all the stumbles; in spite of the messy hand i was dealt; in spite of the cheaters and misdeals; in spite of the chips that have fallen; in spite of the suits that are laid. i should be, no; i am proud of what my life is. the cards I’ve been dealt have helped me play well in the game of life.
while i often times hate that i can’t get over things fast enough or put grudges out with monday morning’s trash; or that i cry when i am too overwhelmed or too worried; or that i will never have the guts to tell certain people how much they’ve hurt me or turn a blind eye to a social media post that makes me sob. while i am no good at letting things go or saying no; or saying goodbye to something that has got to go. while i can’t ever say that i hate how someone made me feel or manage a bad mood- this is just who i am and these are my cards.
i guess i need to learn a better poker face. maybe lady gaga can help.