Ahh my long lost blog! I have been absent from my writing for a while, not by choice, but due to writers block. We all know what it feels like to have confused, muddled thoughts in your head that could possibly change the world, but simply do not make sense on paper, or to anyone else. I have started writing a few posts and then deleted them, realising that I just wasn’t ready. So I allowed myself to take a break, and stopped beating myself up for not being able to write. That was a blessing. Letting the stress of it go has allowed me to be able to write again, and hopefully, this string of sentences and paragraphs made up of the Queen’s finest English, could make some sense.
Over the past few weeks I have been a bit of a recluse. I have sat indoors, only really gone out to work, or else confined myself to my garden if the weather permitted, which it didn’t often! I have had long lie ins and overslept. I have felt completely lacking in energy, and entirely submitted to anxiety and depression. I have had no fight in me, and haven’t really even tried to stir up any. The reason for this? I give away all my power to external factors, be that people, emotions, or experiences.
How do I do this you ask? In many ways…
I give away my power to other people
I live in a small town in which pretty much everybody knows everybody, or at least something about them. You can guarantee that the someone who knows something about you, knows something that isn’t true, and would happily share this something with anyone who will listen. I’m not really a partier, nor do I do things which evoke gossipers to do what they do best, however in a town where people see what they want to see, there is always a spark of a rumour waiting to be ignited at any time. I avoid my hometown like the plague. The people I went to school with, the groups of “popular” girls who were nasty just to make others laugh, the boys I used to date, the people I used to work with, the girls I stupidly fell out with over a boy…you get the picture. They give me anxiety. And I’m not talking just a little anxious butterfly, I’m talking a full blown anxiety attack. I’m talking sweaty palms and a sick feeling that you just cannot shake.
I avoid social situations, the centre of town, bars, clubs, shops, the places that I love, and the places that I don’t. And as a result, I’m missing out, declining invitations to go to events or social occasions that I actually do want to attend, and letting my friends, and most importantly myself, down. This is how I give away my power to other people. Currently, the people I am not fond of in my town, have my power. And they don’t even know it. They control whether I go out or not, whether I live my life or not, and whether I have fun. It sounds ridiculous writing it down, and actually admitting it to myself and realising the extent to which these blasts from the past control my life is quite upsetting. What am I scared of? I don’t really know. Perhaps confrontation. Perhaps awkwardness. Perhaps the stirring of old feelings. Perhaps just the fear of the unknown as to how I will be received. The thing is, these people are not putting their lives on hold because of me. Most of these people don’t even think about me at all! And I shouldn’t care.So this is what I will work on. Little by little, and baby step by baby step, I am going to start doing what I want to do, wherever it is. This is my town too, and I have done nothing to feel that I am unsafe. I can remove myself from any situation if needs be, and I don’t need to fear others, nor give them the power that is rightfully mine.
I give my power to my past
Memories of my past take a lot of my power. As a result of my childhood, I live in fear of not having control, of men and their power over me, of whether I can cope on my own. I constantly replay the past with a consciousness to making sure that it doesn’t repeat itself, however the focus on it prevents me from moving forward.
My past has such a power over me in the sense that my fear of fear itself and the memories of my panic attacks and depressive episodes are more scary than anything. I focus on them. I live and breathe them over and over again. I cannot move forward whilst my past lives within me. Yes, it is a part of me, but it is gone. It has left. And what is left is unwritten.
I give my power to my anger
I am quite an angry person. I see red. I feel rage. And I’m not afraid to express it. When I feel angry, this feeling has all of the power over my body and my mind. There is often no stopping me in asserting what I believe in, and taking out my anger on anyone and everyone who are around, which as we all know is more often than not the people closest to us. My anger takes over me, and I no longer want it to. I don’t want to be quick-tempered and irrational. I don’t want to be aggressive.
I give my power to my insecurities
I am a very insecure person. I don’t like my body. I don’t like my face much. I am insecure and concerned a little too much about what people think of me at times. This controls where I go, what I wear, who I talk to, what I say and how I see myself. My insecurities are so powerful. They are alight with criticism: that doesn’t look good on you, you look like you’ve put on weight, you can’t do that, you are too anxious for that, you’re not good enough, you don’t deserve that. The criticism of myself is cruel. I would never dream of treating others how I treat myself, how’s that for logic? I allow my insecurities to make sure I cover up my body (which, coincidentally, is actually very petite and toned for someone who is really quite lazy in the exercise department), fear being in an intimate scenario and compare myself to others constantly.
I am insecure about my own ability to cope with anything and everything in my life. And I look in the mirror and I’m sometimes ashamed of what I see: a 22 year old who hasn’t really done anything with her life.
I want to be my own biggest fan. I want to look in the mirror and see someone that I love, someone that I am proud to be. I want to commend myself, congratulate myself, and allow myself to do, and wear exactly what I want, or don’t want to do.
I give my power to the what if’s
So much of my life, and the life of anyone who lives with crippling anxiety, is built around the what if’s.
What if I can’t do that? What if something terrible happens? What if I’m not good enough? What if I see someone I don’t want to see? What if someone says something to me? What if I have a panic attack? What if everyone sees how vulnerable I am?
The what ifs in my life have such a power over what I do, where I go, and how comfortable I feel. It is absolutely ridiculous. It is ridiculous that I let the fear of the unknown, or the could be’s, and something that probably, and on most occasions definitely, won’t happen, have any hold over me. So what if any of those things happen? I can handle it. I can handle anything. I’ve got my own back.
I want my own power back! I say that with oomph, and with force. I want to regain the power over my own life. I don’t want to be scared to drive down the road in fear of who may pass me in the car. I don’t want to be angry. I certainly don’t want to dislike myself. I don’t want to be a slave to the memories of the past. I don’t want to focus on the what if’s.
My power is currently distributed. But I’m coming for it. For now, I have a fire in my belly and I’m ready to regain the power I so truly desire, deserve and need.