I feel uncomfortable in my own skin. I hate this.
I feel stressed out for no reason. And I have a mild anxiety happening.
But mostly I feel uncomfortable in my own skin.
I really really hate hanging out at people’s houses. I would much prefer hanging out in a restaurant, in public, than hang out at someone’s house.
I fucking hate it. The entire thing gives me anxiety.
The number one thing that keeps pushing me harder than anything else?
The thought that if I keep throwing myself at this wall, eventually, something good will happen?
Is that I know if I can keep pursuing positivity and new opportunities that eventually, I will have to break down the wall…and on the other side of that wall is everything I want, right now in time.
Sometimes i feel like no amount of positivity can shut down the worrying and the demons in your brain when you have anxiety.
Fucking hate this.
It’s 4:30a. I’ve finally climbed into bed. Awful thoughts run through my head. Anxieties. Can’t sleep. (I’ll be past out in like 10 mins probably hah - mike is extremely warm).
However, I just eliminated money as one. I finally checked my bank account after running around for 2 days not worrying about anything. I’m good. We spent about $50. It was worth it.
Good things to come this weekend. I am making this promise to myself right now.
The more access my friends gain to social media sites, the more anxiety I get.
The Internet was one of my biggest releases in completely being myself. I’m starting to lose that, and my anxiety is increasing 10-fold.
Hopefully this is just a temporary feeling, but either way it sucks.
I just went through like 30 something pages of tumblr to catch up on today.
Things I want to address:
So - This happened yesterday. I wrote this on my tumblr dedicated to my anxiety (and whatever the fuck else could potentially be wrong with me). My life is changing, and it’s relly exciting and nerve-wracking. But mostly exciting because for the first time in my life I’m making a decision and not being too scared about what everyone else thinks or is going to say to pursue it.
Because fuck everyone (the first time i’ve ever said this)…I don’t know what is going to make me happy. But nothing like this is permanent. And if it doesn’t work out two weeks, a month, or six months from now….It doesn’t work out. And I move on. But at least I fucking tried something. And I’m doing something other than sitting around my fucking room playing on facebook and tumblr all day.
Tina Fey’s, “Bossypants”, is pretty much awesome.
I am only a few chapters in, but I am super stoked to have found a book that I can read past the first page. Or even the first chapter, and actually remember what I read.
Fact: I love to read.
Truth be told, I don’t know if it was my anxiety in the past, but this is the first time since I’ve started to work on my anxiety, that I’ve really sat down to read in the past year and had no problem actually shutting my brain down for once.
I didn’t go on the computer simultaneously, read a few pages of my book then refresh my dash. Or promise myself that if I read til the end of that page, I can check my phone. Nor was I hurrying up to try to get to the next chapter, like it was a game and I had to not be the last one to finish. I even think I read in a timely manner. AND, this is a big one for me, I even had it silent in my room and was still able to concentrate.
I know this doesn’t mean much to a lot of people, but this is some leaps and bounds shit for me.
I’ve pushed through so much of this anxiety/depression bullshit in the last seven months, and about 99% of my days I’m left numb/empty (and that’s an entirely new problem to deal with), but it feels so fucking good to notice the little things that always stressed me out all the time, that no longer do.