Tag Archives: stress

You can only be as okay as you actually are.

I spent a lot of time chastising myself for feeling the wrong way.

“This is ridiculous, you’re overreacting.”

“You said, it was okay, so you really have no reason to be upset.”

“You’re not getting anything done feeling this way, grow up and act like a fucking adult.”

The voices in my head are not very kind. I imagine, it’s that way for a scary number of people. Lately, I’ve been really trying to grin through some tough times and be okay. And sometimes, I am. I can laugh and enjoy being around people and feel good about myself, but that doesn’t last, and when those feelings drop into self-loathing, insecurity, depression and anxiety, I have a lot of trouble being kind to myself for switching off. If I was fine yesterday, I should be fine today.

I think I’m starting to come to terms about how unrealistic that is. I put on a brave face while talking myself down all the time, but I’m starting to think that’s not so healthy.Well, I know it’s not healthy, but I think I might try doing something about it.

I also feel guilty, because this blog has had a lot of negativity to it lately, and I feel like that gives off the wrong impression of who I am, or that I’m looking for attention or people to check on me. I put my feelings out there because I know I can connect with other people. Having something resonate to someone in a deep way is a huge deal for me. And if it’s negative? I must continue to tell myself “so what?”, hard though it may be to hear. I’m in a bad place, maybe other people who are also in a bad place can find comfort in that. I don’t know. I don’t pretend to anymore.

It’s hard this time of year because there’s a lot to be done. School, work, Christmas, but I think acknowledging my pain, and almost embracing it, might be the only way to get through it all.

I’m not okay, so I guess maybe I’ll stop saying I am.

Writer’s block

I’m feeling very stuck. Usually when I’m sad, or down, I’ve been able to put pen to paper, so to speak, and write my feelings away. Every time I sit down to write, though, I seem to draw up a blank. Or I write pages and pages of nonsense that won’t serve anyone to read. Therapeutic for me to get out, perhaps, but I think it might have people far too concerned for my sanity than they need to be.

So here I sit, thinking about all the things I would say if I could, what I would talk about. I’d talk about how I’m not very happy right now. I’m feeling stuck in my writing, but I think it’s because I’m stuck in my life. I feel like at this moment there is no room for any forward motion for me right now, and that is not a state that I enjoy being in. I’m a planner, I like to work toward goals, have plans of action, have dreams. I feel like those have come to a halt for the moment and my body, my brain, which are conditioned to be moving forward have stopped like feet in freshly poured cement.

There’s an end to some of this, there has to be or I would entirely lose my mind. I’ve figured out what I have the power to change and have taken action to change them. That just needs time. A few months and that part of my life will be moving again.

Some parts won’t though. Some parts will probably be up in the air for a very long time. I’m not sure how long I can manage to make that work without cracking. Most of the time it seems beyond worth it. What’s a matter of a couple of years in the grand scheme of life? Won’t I look back on this time and remember how silly and small I felt, and be so glad that I waited? But another part of me, the part that wins over on sad grey days like this one, make me think that there may never be a conclusion. I don’t know how to deal with this but I do know that it’s far too soon to make any kind of decision yet, so here I sit, my brain a flurry of strange and scary and exciting and wonderful thoughts, and nothing to channel this energy into.

There’s no right answer. I get a lot of disapproving stares and words of concern. I get support and knowing nods. But they don’t know. They aren’t there for every whispered secret, every slow dance, every small act of kindness. They don’t see how nobody else has ever known me so well.

I just want to fly above my life for a little bit. It’s too much for me right now.