As if living like a loner, and a social outcast during my early years didn't provide me with a feeling of being disconnected from society enough, now I find myself with a new realization that makes things slightly more difficult.
I've realized that most of my over thinking my issues with anger and losing control, and my feeling of complete desolation and hopelessness all stem from anxiety.
Anxiety caused by failure and a shattered self esteem perhaps, but anxiety nonetheless.
Anxiety is a concept less familiar, ironically, than things like ADHD - ironic, because we all suffer from anxiety, more or less. Psychology considers it a self defense mechanism, but most if not all things can prove to be like double edged swords. We have to take the good with the bad, and sometimes our mechanisms go awry. Perform in ways we wouldn't expect them to.
Lack of awareness is a bitch. Imagine my pain and feeling of hopelessness when I try to explain anxiety to my mother, to in turn be looked at like I'm insane. To find her staring at me from across the table, trying to study me. Her eyes clearly revealing the fact that she does not understand. That she's confused, lost, even scared. It's either my luck or determination that I now realize that anxiety does not mean you're going insane, for I started out thinking that way and it made things way worse.
I understand why my mother doesn't understand, she doesn't want to. She wants to resist the notion, to deny the idea that her son can be anything but strong and able. She just doesn't understand the extent to which I am just as human as anyone else.
"Take you to a doctor, so people can talk about how our son is insane?" she says.
It hurt like the rain of a million razor blades all working in unison.
I'm not fucking insane, mother. I'm one of the smartest people I've ever known, maybe I'm unconventional in the ways I do things sometimes. Have I mentioned I suffer from severe fucking anxiety?
But I understand. I understand why things are the way they are. In some fashions, I suppose, that in of itself is lucky. I could just start being angry at my mother, and her lack of an understanding to this particularly touchy subject matter.
But I understand. My mother comes from a world that has since evolved, considering the exponential growth of ideology that is clear to witness. Where once my mother couldn't operate a simple VCR, my own prospective offspring will be born with a touchscreen in hand.
I understand.
I understand why my mother is having a hard time, perhaps because I've seen others turn a blind eye far quicker. Others whom I expected would understand, expected would treat me better. Would try to help me overcome this hurdle rather than blame me for all their own problems and inability to understand. But they were quick to leave, to give up. Telling themselves something completely different, telling themselves I'm a horrible person.
I'm not a horrible person. I'm a very good person. I've had bad things happen to me, like most of us. The only problem is, my horrible things were in several ways different than the horrible things that happen to other people. Not everyone suffers from anxiety, not everyone has this void where a self esteem belongs.
Psychologists warn not to think of your anxiety as an evil, as something you have no control over. They do this because they realize how it seems exactly like that when it shadows over your existence. Like a problem that will never go away, like a demon that is forcing you through pain and suffering. Like nothing can be done about it, like every scenario that you imagine has a horrible ending for you. Like a dark cloud following you everywhere you go.
Like every step you take will somehow enable you to fall harder on your face. Like every thing that could be going wrong in the world, is.
Like there is no escape. Like the walls are closing in.
I have witnessed myself going into a mental zone of in-comprehensive anger and confusion, especially around crowds. Crowds make me feel very uncomfortable. More now than ever before, I can not stand the eyes of all these strangers on me. Whether said strangers even notice me is a completely different matter, one which does not matter to the anxious mind.
At first I didn't realize what was happening, at first I didn't give it a second thought. But self awareness, especially a heightened self awareness, is a double edged sword in of itself. You start realizing things that you don't do in the best possible ways, so that you can better yourself. Better the way you treat people and live life. But this heightened self awareness brings with it anxiety of it's own.
What if I'm doing things wrong, what if I'm treating people wrong? Am I morally correct? Am I making the morally correct choices? Am I going to hurt people by doing what I'm doing? What if this doesn't heed expected results, what if I'm going on about this the completely wrong way?
Breathe, Danish.
I do realize it now. But as soon as I do, my mind refuses to go anywhere happy, anywhere good. What if I am going insane after all? No I'm not. What if people start hating me, what if I end up completely alone? What if I end up pushing away everyone because of this lack of control over my anger, and a refusal to take charge of the situation?
Just like I pushed her away.
I start to cry after writing that line. It feels good. I haven't cried like this in a while, they say crying helps... or something like that. It doesn't feel very bad. Suffice to say, I still miss her. I'm probably still in love with her, too.
But I wasn't a bad person. I'm not. I did everything I could for her.
I understand why she didn't understand either. I really do. Doesn't make it any less unfortunate, but I do.
I don't know what to say in ending. I feel very uncertain about things, constantly. But I know I don't want history to repeat itself, I understand how things are and want to make them better.
I accept myself. Even if not completely sometimes, even if self doubt still remains, I accept myself more so than I did a few months ago. This is who I am. The ability to be happy, the ability to change, the ability to grow and evolve, to walk out of this situation lives inside me. I am capable enough, and one day I will.
I have not been asleep for the past 23 years, I've been living life. Growing, and learning.
All I can think of right now is, "this too shall pass."
I've realized that most of my over thinking my issues with anger and losing control, and my feeling of complete desolation and hopelessness all stem from anxiety.
Anxiety caused by failure and a shattered self esteem perhaps, but anxiety nonetheless.
Anxiety is a concept less familiar, ironically, than things like ADHD - ironic, because we all suffer from anxiety, more or less. Psychology considers it a self defense mechanism, but most if not all things can prove to be like double edged swords. We have to take the good with the bad, and sometimes our mechanisms go awry. Perform in ways we wouldn't expect them to.
Lack of awareness is a bitch. Imagine my pain and feeling of hopelessness when I try to explain anxiety to my mother, to in turn be looked at like I'm insane. To find her staring at me from across the table, trying to study me. Her eyes clearly revealing the fact that she does not understand. That she's confused, lost, even scared. It's either my luck or determination that I now realize that anxiety does not mean you're going insane, for I started out thinking that way and it made things way worse.
I understand why my mother doesn't understand, she doesn't want to. She wants to resist the notion, to deny the idea that her son can be anything but strong and able. She just doesn't understand the extent to which I am just as human as anyone else.
"Take you to a doctor, so people can talk about how our son is insane?" she says.
It hurt like the rain of a million razor blades all working in unison.
I'm not fucking insane, mother. I'm one of the smartest people I've ever known, maybe I'm unconventional in the ways I do things sometimes. Have I mentioned I suffer from severe fucking anxiety?
But I understand. I understand why things are the way they are. In some fashions, I suppose, that in of itself is lucky. I could just start being angry at my mother, and her lack of an understanding to this particularly touchy subject matter.
But I understand. My mother comes from a world that has since evolved, considering the exponential growth of ideology that is clear to witness. Where once my mother couldn't operate a simple VCR, my own prospective offspring will be born with a touchscreen in hand.
I understand.
I understand why my mother is having a hard time, perhaps because I've seen others turn a blind eye far quicker. Others whom I expected would understand, expected would treat me better. Would try to help me overcome this hurdle rather than blame me for all their own problems and inability to understand. But they were quick to leave, to give up. Telling themselves something completely different, telling themselves I'm a horrible person.
I'm not a horrible person. I'm a very good person. I've had bad things happen to me, like most of us. The only problem is, my horrible things were in several ways different than the horrible things that happen to other people. Not everyone suffers from anxiety, not everyone has this void where a self esteem belongs.
Psychologists warn not to think of your anxiety as an evil, as something you have no control over. They do this because they realize how it seems exactly like that when it shadows over your existence. Like a problem that will never go away, like a demon that is forcing you through pain and suffering. Like nothing can be done about it, like every scenario that you imagine has a horrible ending for you. Like a dark cloud following you everywhere you go.
Like every step you take will somehow enable you to fall harder on your face. Like every thing that could be going wrong in the world, is.
Like there is no escape. Like the walls are closing in.
I have witnessed myself going into a mental zone of in-comprehensive anger and confusion, especially around crowds. Crowds make me feel very uncomfortable. More now than ever before, I can not stand the eyes of all these strangers on me. Whether said strangers even notice me is a completely different matter, one which does not matter to the anxious mind.
At first I didn't realize what was happening, at first I didn't give it a second thought. But self awareness, especially a heightened self awareness, is a double edged sword in of itself. You start realizing things that you don't do in the best possible ways, so that you can better yourself. Better the way you treat people and live life. But this heightened self awareness brings with it anxiety of it's own.
What if I'm doing things wrong, what if I'm treating people wrong? Am I morally correct? Am I making the morally correct choices? Am I going to hurt people by doing what I'm doing? What if this doesn't heed expected results, what if I'm going on about this the completely wrong way?
Breathe, Danish.
I do realize it now. But as soon as I do, my mind refuses to go anywhere happy, anywhere good. What if I am going insane after all? No I'm not. What if people start hating me, what if I end up completely alone? What if I end up pushing away everyone because of this lack of control over my anger, and a refusal to take charge of the situation?
Just like I pushed her away.
I start to cry after writing that line. It feels good. I haven't cried like this in a while, they say crying helps... or something like that. It doesn't feel very bad. Suffice to say, I still miss her. I'm probably still in love with her, too.
But I wasn't a bad person. I'm not. I did everything I could for her.
I understand why she didn't understand either. I really do. Doesn't make it any less unfortunate, but I do.
I don't know what to say in ending. I feel very uncertain about things, constantly. But I know I don't want history to repeat itself, I understand how things are and want to make them better.
I accept myself. Even if not completely sometimes, even if self doubt still remains, I accept myself more so than I did a few months ago. This is who I am. The ability to be happy, the ability to change, the ability to grow and evolve, to walk out of this situation lives inside me. I am capable enough, and one day I will.
I have not been asleep for the past 23 years, I've been living life. Growing, and learning.
All I can think of right now is, "this too shall pass."
