It is currently 11:50am and I should be at a rehearsal for the solo I’ve been given, for Christmas, in ten minutes. Unfortunately, my car won’t start.
Whilst sat in my car, turning the key over in the ignition, only to hear the moans and groans of a frozen battery, I couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. This situation would usually be a dream. A gift from God. An excuse to give whoever I happened to be meeting to get out of meeting them. Ah yes. My anxiety. I usually get anxious when I have a list of things to accomplish and, at the same time, a yearning to stay at home and do nothing. It’s a little more complex than that, but you get the point. In the past I would have made up a lie like “my car won’t start” or, “this last minute group project has come up and I can’t get out of their stupid meeting time” to avoid work, social events, church events…did I mention work? Then today happened. I was truly excited about getting to my rehearsal on time and going to drop in to hang out with M and K.. aaaaaaand my car won’t start. What a pain.
So now I’ve come back inside to do the only thing I can do when my anxiety is this high. Write.
Lately I’ve been thinking hard about what I want to do with my life. I thought teaching was where I wanted to be, and maybe teaching at a higher level than grade school is the answer, but writing holds my heart. I’m not sure where to start but my first thought is to find a job, any job, that involves writing. I don’t care if it’s minute taking, technical writing, freelance journalism, editing students papers, being a TA, whatever. If it gets me into either a university setting, or a permanent writing gig, I’m down.
In the meantime, my anxiety is now at an all time high and I’m frustrated because this week was going to be an awesome one. Now I feel like crap. Eff.
That horrible moment when you realize you haven’t written a post on your blog for over a month.
I miss writing so much. I’ve sat down to write many times and have 10 very rough draft posts. I have some ideas for poems – but I’ll wait to unleash them until I start my poetry class in January. Lately I’ve just been so lazy. I wrote a six page essay talking about the layers of history in two poems for my American Literature class a couple weeks ago – after submitting it I realized I had effed up the title and misspelled one of the words. IN THE TITLE. What a mess. Since then I’ve kind of given up on school (not really). For next summer, I’m looking for a job at a magazine, or with a publishing house, as an editing intern. Anything that keeps me writing all summer would be prime.
Personal I’ve been spending a lot of time with A and B recently. Since A’s mum has been away, we’ve just bonded and enjoyed each others company. A brought another A into our little group and she’s wonderful, a little awkward — but wonderful. I had a little shindig for Halloween and while it went really well, something seemed off. Our group isn’t as tight as it once was and I’m afraid that as time goes by we’re all going to start getting pissy at each other. N and K had a celebration for K’s birthday and didn’t invite us, which was weird. B and I are kind of frustrated, and to be honest, my feelings are sort of hurt over it. There is never a time when I don’t invite all of my friends to come and be together, so when I find out that my friends organize events and don’t include me it’s a slap in the face — am I wrong? Trying to rebuild a friendship is tough. Once you’ve been screwed over it’s tricky to trust that person again. I’m not sure what will happen, but hopefully it’ll blow over and we can all just learn to be more considerate of each other.
My anxiety has been super high lately. Lots of what I have going on is getting me stressed. If I’m not at school, I’m working. If I’m not working, I’m volunteering. Then I have rehearsals for Sundays and Christmas. I teach Jr. High Class. I also have friends, and my mum in one house and my dad in another. My man keeps me grounded, but it’s hard to talk about such depressing things sometimes. I don’t want to be a downer, so I keep things to myself and then they build up and the ground is swallowing me and even though nothing bad is happening I feel like I can’t breath and I’m suffocating all because of how exciting life is… Because I just can’t cope with too many things at once. Does anyone else feel this way?
BooksI can’t believe how good this month was for me and books. I read Doctor’s Sleep which was pretty fantastic, started reading Dante’s Inferno and Sula by Toni Morrison (for my Am. Lit. Class). The rundown from now until Christmas will be so busy for reading so I’m getting a head start. Speaking of which I should go and read for my class tomorrow morning as it’s already 11pm and I’m exhausted.
I’m sorry I’m not around much – I’ll try to post more than once a month from now on!
With the blinds drawn I am completely hidden from the world outside. The setting of my life that consumes and overwhelms me on a daily basis. Inside I am safe with my parents, my thoughts. My body is scared to take steps out, my mind races at the thought of spending the day out with people I don’t trust. When the blinds are opened, as the sun comes up, I’m forced to face the world that terrifies me. It gets worse when my only plan is to lie to my boss and my mum, take refuge at my fathers house only to find he drank himself into a stupor when I declined his invitation for dinner last night. The guilt that floods my existence drowns me. I feel sick to my stomach. That kind of feeling that rises to your throat and sticks there for hours so you have to constantly swallow back your emotions.
Anxiety is something that is talked about frequently these days. The stigma is dropping slowly, but the problem is that those with anxiety are too anxious to seek the help they need. I wish there was a button you could press to show everyone exactly how I feel on a daily basis. I can’t explain exactly the dread that fills me most days at the simplest of tasks.
At 22 I’m beginning to think this will haunt me for the rest of my life. It will hinder my ability to work where I want to work, and to support my children. My husband won’t understand and he’ll resent me, or worse, feel sorry for me, leading me down the road of guilt once again. I can’t put this on someone else. It’s no one’s fault, not even mine, and it certainly isn’t something anyone can fix.
On the inside I’m crying, but on the outside I’m just an angry, selfish, loud girl. Is there another way to live?