I’ve never thought of myself of an overly anxious person. Anxiety doesn’t get in the way of me doing things. It doesn’t deter me from applying for a job, or pushing myself to try something new. Nor does it stop me from talking to a complete stranger. It doesn’t get in the way of me living a normal life, yet somehow, it’s still there.
I can feel it hanging over my shoulder, invading my mind with negative thoughts and making me feel a sense of unease.
I’m not entirely sure when my anxiety began, but I think pregnancy probably had a lot to do with it (me and raging hormones go together like peas and carrots). My brain hasn’t functioned in the same way since. After three pregnancies, I am now left with the memory of a goldfish. Not a ‘oh damn it, I forgot to buy bread’ type of memory loss, more like the forgetting your car and walking home kind. Pregnancy turned my brain into an over-boiled cabbage, that cannot be uncooked.
Perhaps that’s where my anxiety began. Perhaps it came from a fear of losing control and never feeling quite organised enough. Or perhaps it’s feeling like everyone one else knows what they are doing, yet I don’t. Who knows? I think I’m less concerned with where it came from and more concerned with working out how one politely tells it to f*@k the hell off.
The thing about anxiety is that it becomes a perpetuating cycle. Worrying about not getting things done, not being organised enough, thin enough, not having a clean house, not having enough time, whether the kids have eaten healthily (you can see why it’s called generalised anxiety, can’t you?); worrying about not getting all these things right, makes it harder to do just that. You can’t concentrate, can’t perform, can’t plan, can’t make decisions, heck, even being pleasant can be a challenge. Then comes an even greater anxiety and even less ability to get things done.
You see, today I was meant to be writing a different blog post entirely. I had a plan, but that niggling sense off impending doom got in the way. I actually stared at my screen in a semi-trance like state for a good hour, before deciding to throw the plan away and write this instead. If this feeling is sticking around for the day, then I may as well go with it. Although I know I’ll hover over the publish button before going through with it, afraid that someone reading this might think less of me somehow. On the other hand, there may be someone else reading this who feels the same.
If you are that person, well, you’re not on your own. Though I don’t have the answer, if I did, I wouldn’t be writing this now, perhaps just talking about it might help. Either that, or we can wind each other up and get into even more of a pickle. Who knows?
So when the logical part of your brain fails you and all the healthy eating and early nights aren’t enough to stop anxiety from seeping in, just remember you’re not on your own. We’re all loons in our own way, let’s be loons together.