Let’s talk real talk.
Anxiety. I rarely experienced the feeling of being anxious before, but each year, I feel like it builds and builds and the feeling that everyone is going to abandon me gets stronger and stronger.
I feel like, maybe, this pushes people away from me. I don’t do it intentionally, but I really feel like it’s something that I could make better.
I just returned back to work after having a week off. I deactivated facebook halfway through my vacation, so I could focus and be more productive on my vacation.
Only 4 people asked me about where I’ve gone.
Anxiety tells me it’s because no one cares.
Anxiety tells me people probably did’t follow my facebook page and don’t even notice I am gone.
Anxiety tells me…
Anxiety tells me…
Anxiety tells me…
Do you know what I tell anxiety?
I press it down and try to ignore it. I tell myself, every time that what Anxiety says is irrational. Just like when I climb to the top of the 12 foot walls at the races I do, “It’s okay! THAT’S not actually happening.”
When I don’t hear from a friend, or they don’t respond to a text message, anxiety tells me they don’t want me around. I know, though, that that isn’t what is being thought. It’s not the case. I know that friends have kids, and friends have careers and friends have lives outside of texting me.
I KNOW THESE THINGS. However, anxiety fucks with my head so deeply, sometimes that it’s hard to convince myself otherwise.
I’ve still only had one anxiety attack, to date, aside from racing anxiety attacks (surprisingly always at the 12 foot wall). But recently, it’s been building.
I caught myself, getting super deep into my feels, and borderline making things up in my mind. Not of my own accord, but anxiety. Maybe a touch of seasonal depression. Who knows? Probably a therapist. Probably someone licensed to understand the things that lay deep inside the brain.
When my friend texted me, that I didn’t hear from all weekend, I literally cried. Anxiety told me that he didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.
I have a fear of abandonment. I believe it stems from my childhood, and it’s rearing its ugly face now.
I was in foster care for a while during my childhood. I was moved around quite often. The reasoning they gave me for my constant moves; “We don’t want the foster parents to get too attached, so we have to keep you moving around.”
Do they have any idea what that did to my mind? I was a good child, being punished because my parents couldn’t be civil with each-other.
So, when I started to like the foster family, I was ripped from the home and dropped into a home of yet another family, who I had to be introduced to and get to know, and establish trust, only to have that all ripped away, to start over again.
I was 7.
I had NO IDEA.
A 7 year old cannot comprehend the severity of the situation. At 7, it didn’t make sense. Mom and dad didn’t like each other, so they couldn’t settle their disagreement without the state’s help.
Once I was back with my mother and the courts settled on visitation and custody, it was a never-ending cycle of bouncing from school to school, house to house, and mom’s boyfriends.
“Don’t get attached! They’re going to leave,” my brain tells me.
They’d leave even if I didn’t get attached. It just hurt more when you’d get attached.
I’ve noticed that now, since I lost my husband, I get attached to good people, pretty quick. I question my worth when it comes to them. I question how long they’ll stick around. I question everything.
Is that honestly me questioning, or is it the anxiety I have when it comes to people?
It could be a bit of both.
“They’re going to leave you,” Anxiety always taunts.
It’s an oddity when the people you expect to leave you, don’t. They stay close-ish. They text when you least expect it, but when you need it the most. It’s an oddity when that causes you so much relief that it draws tears from you. Like a lightening of the heart. Like a weight off the shoulders.
That’s not normal. At least, in my mind, I don’t that that’s normal feelings when it comes to having friends.
I can see how it may cause people to withdraw.
“Clingy.” Not necessarily the word I would use, but some might. It’s more the fear. I don’t want to let go of good people because I have had to do so, so often through my entire life.
“Just let them go.”
“Don’t get attached.”
“They’re going to leave.”
“You’ll be removed.”
“You overthink too much.”
I came across a piece of artwork that screamed at me, this morning. I feel this piece with every ounce of my being.
I’m just above.
I left the name there. I came across this on instagram. Sometimes, this is the exact depiction of how I’m feeling.
You’d never notice looking from the outside, because I am greatly experienced in keeping it from being a bother to others.