Anxiety

I always read about anxiety and have friends who are sufferers of anxiety, but until i really sat and thought about it I never fully got it. Yes, it's mental. Yes, it's a disorder presumably brought on by stress and possibly a hormone imbalance.

But for some reason I always thought I was above that. Like, ok self, get stressed out, that's fine. Then get over it because you have work to do. Hell, I'm a Theatre Major in the Design world so if I can't get through Tech Week with a hundred flaws, mistakes and fixes then I'm nothing. So I always view life like that. Like, there's a job to do and this is the time to learn how to do anything and just do it live! It's really a fly by the seat of your pants profession. And boy did I love it.

I still do. But it's different now. It's hard to feel like you peaked in your senior thesis project because you lack the motivation to try again. After college when you try to create projects everyone just wants money to be in it or wants you to do theirs for "credit". I don't want to do that anymore. Or that the Non-Profit company you helped build and run for years dissolved and suddenly you're an unknown and a vast sea of movers and shakers because you no longer have that credit to your name.

Starting over. It sucks. My star has fallen.

So now I start to sit and think about all I used to have and do and how I don't have or do those things anymore. Trust me, that is no way to live. I think about how I work part time for a cool company that brings joy to many, and I do love it, but I can barely afford some weeks to do anything else BUT sit on my couch thinking about what I used to do and have. Eating. I eat a lot now. That's pretty bad. I start to feel anxious about going out because I don't want to spend money, or sometimes even BE out. But I've learned that mostly as an adult now all you can really do to see your friends is spend money and talk about how you don't have money but have to splurge once in a while. I miss having friends who just come over and watch a movie or listen to music or who will read the newest Harry Potter next to you in bed and not talk or worry about anything but the next chapter and secretly wonder if your reading word per minute is faster than theirs. Why do adults ruin good things? I was 21 I think when that last one happened.

I stress about not having friends like I used to and how one best friend lives far and we only see one another every few months and how I should call more but don't. And one has two kids but only lives 2 miles away and we still never really call unless to complain or talk about how we should get together. One best friend works so often that I only see her pretty much when we're working together. And how my other best friend has a life of her own and can't hang out with me every day and do best friend things like drink pops and make youtube videos about how annoying Shakespeare is by use of puppets and characters. I stress about other people having lives that I'm not a part of because nobody calls me anymore. And I stress out that if they do call and want to do something it's going to be expensive, so sometimes I'm secretly glad that they don't.

Are we the Hail Marys to one another's plans? The I'll go if you go? I can live with that more because then I feel less alone in thinking that lately I hate people and doing stuff and just want to be on my couch watching my dvd copy of Celebrity Mole Hawaii so I can fall back in love with Erik von Detten. And be with my cats. They make me feel less anxious about not living up to my potential because at least I know I'm still loving and caring to someone, even if it isn't myself.

I worry that my teeth are going to break out of my face despite my attention to my dentist regularly. But I can't afford to get that crown put on just yet, so, please stay mostly painless and in tact until then, molar! I stress that I can't afford to save money because when I do it becomes an emergency find for my health, or the car, or a bill that needs to get paid but I don't have enough to cover it all in my checking. I stress because my brother needs help but I can't help him other than make him dinner once in a while or listen to him vent about things that happened when he was 19 and just starting out as an electrician for the bazillionth time. Then he stresses me out because it's gotten to the point where if I tell him I've heard the story (I've heard ALL the stories) then he gets angry that I'm not letting him talk. Then I get angry because sometimes I want to talk, too! And with him I never really can. I think in 5 years I have maybe progressed to the end of my initial stories maybe 10 times with him- and that's only because I circle back with a "oh yeah and then I/they/it....". I've becomes too introverted to want to spent three hours listening to the same stories. I just want to watch Friends reruns and think about how funny I can make an actually serious rant to try to become a famous blogger despite any actual blogging skills.

Because for some reason I think my view on things are hilarious and everyone would read my book.

I get anxious because I don't think I'm the same person I was when I met my husband, and I worry that he notices that fact. He says he admires how hard I wok and how I like to try new things but I don't see it. I don't see myself working hard. I am literally at work right now typing about how I'm not a hard worker. (I'm just really distracted with PMS feelings and it's a really slow day at work today because I did the hard stuff all yesterday so that today would be fluffy).

I just want to craft things and be internet famous for my wit and charm and crafts and voice. And I get stressed out that I'm 34 trying to live the dream of every 15 year old in America. I stress about being older but looking 20. I stress about my white hair and my leg hair and how I have a mole on the side of my arm pit in the same spot as mom. I stress that I'll never amount to anything because even as a kid all I ever wanted to do was be a singer and I've failed at that a few time already. I worry about my desire to move to Ireland and work in film there will cause me to go insane because my husband doesn't want to move after "just buying the house we have now" in April.

I think I fear most the thought of dying and nobody really noticing. Not like nobody cares, but like, the world won't notice. I think I keep myself awake many a'night thinking about things to do to make people notice me so that if I die they will remember me.