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Day One Hundred and Fitty Three:   Something about worrying

Despite a dietician telling me otherwise I still think I don’t eat enough begetables.  I constantly second guess every meal, was that healthy enough?  Should I be drinking more water?  Should I be working out more?  I want to be healthy, and yet I spend every moment worrying about those kinds of things when worrying is what gets me down in the first place.  I worry about all kinds of things, if I’ve done enough work for class, if someone will like what I’ve said, if I will live up to expectations or my work will live up to expectations.  These things plague me, and despite constantly combating them with positive thoughts and good intentions they somehow appear regardless.

I am strong will enough to want to keep going and keep trying, because these kinds of things bother me.  I want to be comfortable whenever I eat or whenever I make plans that things are okay, and not worry that something will go wrong.  I’m giving myself a headache just thinking about it.  Isn’t it enough to want to be better? Why do I have to analyse it too?  I don’t think there’s anything much wrong with me other than I really need to relax.

The best relaxing moment in my life would have to be our third day in Paris.  It seems so bizarre to me that while backpacking for the first time in Europe alone I was the more calm one out of the two of us, but it happened.  (Sorry AJ I really did try to help and worry about train times, but for some reason I just knew it would be okay)  I try to recreate those feelings of complete confidence in whatever I’m doing if it becomes overwhelming.  I try to remember how it felt to not have worry sitting on my chest, to not lay in bed thinking I should be awake doing something more productive than sleep.  Honestly that’s what happens most nights; I struggle with the thought of sleeping too much because I could be up doing other things.  My body needs sleep too, and I have to remind myself that every single day.

If anything the worst part of my worrying prevents me from getting excited about going out.  It seems so insignificant now, that about an hour, or three, or the day or week before I have plans for something I am not excited for it.  I don’t look forward to it, I actually dread it, and this happens with just about anything.  Class?  Councelling appointments?  Dinners?  Celebrations?  Anything it doesn’t matter it just somehow gets on my radar as “unwanted” and my body reacts accordingly.  While I’m on my way to whatever it is that feeling of dread melts away, but up until that point I can’t fight this heavy weight on my chest and cloud in my head.   It hasn’t always been this way, and this is the first time it’s happened all semester, just this past week or two.

I know how to fight it, this…anxiety, I suppose, but it takes a lot of effort and to be honest I’m exhausted.  Work and school and friends, I haven’t been home in pajama’s before nine all week, I’ve been out on the town (which is fabulous) but I am just getting to that point now where I’d like to just spend some time on the back porch and listen to my own book.  I have a sneaking suspicion that this coming week will not have any leeway for that though, between seeing people interviews at work, planning an event this coming weekend and two papers due this week I think that m relaxing evenings are just about nonexistent until…..August?  Yeah, probably.

Not complaining, just feeling drained.  I always feel drained when my anxiety sits on my chest, and so I think I’m going to make a conscious effort to combat it. Starting tomorrow.  Tomorrow begins my new routine, so, hopefully that helps a little bit.  I’m at that brink where I’m on the verge of tears by mid afternoon for no reason, just my head Is full and my chest is heavy and I need to get away.  It’s not a physical need though, it’s a mental one.  I make things weigh too heavily on my mind and then after a while that’s what drains me.  I need to perk up, is all.

I don’t know why I decided to write about this today. I want to be better, I guess, and sometimes writing things down makes me accountable.  I enjoy talking about things to people, about my life and the things I go through, but this is the one thing that not a lot of people know much about.  How I have a hard time leaving the house, when deciding what to wear is a chore and more like a battlefield (if you’ve ever been with me before a night out you will know lots of tears and things are thrown, there are sometimes yelling matches between myself and…well, myself.) sometimes I think I’m crazy.

Not just sometimes, a lot of the times.

I have never felt more confident now that happiness, and the states we experience, are never constant, and that I myself go through cycles.  People work their entire lives to get to be happy with money or love or anything, when really we should just be content with working.  I look back on this past semester and do not regret those really hard times right at the beginning or the messy frustrating bits in the end, because those are the bits that make the confident, amazing times worth it.  Right now is just a transition for me, from being frustrated to being…well, trying not to be.  It’s that motivation to keep on moving that is the meaning of life, in my opinion, because we all do it.  We keep on working.

z