I am noticing a pattern when it comes to my anxiety/depression. It comes in waves. I have a week or so where I feel fantastic and make a bunch of plans for the future. I then get to enjoy about a week of questioning my motives. Then finally I have 2 or 3 weeks where everything sucks and I’m to terrified to do anything so i just lose myself in video game land.
During those bad weeks, my mind gets a bit out of control. Sleep becomes non existent. I find problems with my relationship with Courtney that don’t actually exist. I hate my job with an unreasonable amount of passion. I worry about doing basic every day shit like talking to the guy at the servo or having to make a phone call.
I freak out about my health, I convince myself that I am sick and that something Is terribly wrong. So I go see the doctor, only for him to tell me that repeatedly coming to see him with the same symptoms, even though I have been check out, is only going to serve to make my anxiety worse.
But they are totally real. I manifest some legit stomach pains. I get this severe pain in my chest, But only when I think about it. I get headaches whenever I think about having a headache.
There is no reason for me to be having these kind of problems. The doctor has told me this multiple times. Not in those exact words of course. He normally just say “try taken some anti inflammatorys.”
I’m making them real by believing they are real.
The human mind is capable of doing some incredible , yet retarded things.
But it makes me wonder about other things that I believe to be real. How many of them are actually just me fucking myself up?
I have always considered myself a bit of a realist. I don’t let my expectations to high about anything. I try and be “honest” with myself and others about my capabilities and shortcomings. And I try not to let myself get lost in any kind of romantic fantasies about how people, or the world works.
But I’m starting to think this has been my biggest downfall when it come to pretty much everything I have ever done.
When I’m In these bad weeks, I speak to myself in a way that I wouldn’t speak with my worst enemy…. if I had one.
“I will never be good enough.”
“Nobody really cares about me much”
“If I died tomorrow, people wouldn’t really miss me.”
“I’m pretty shit at most things”
“It’s all a waste of time”
“Things always turn to shit”
Simply by thinking like this, I’m shooting myself in the foot. Because like the stomach pains, I’m making them real by believing it. If I think I’m not good enough, then I’m not even going to try. If I think people don’t care, I’m going to make no attempt to connect with them.
Does this make sense?
I’m thinking, what would happen if I just try changing the way I speak to myself. Move away from the realist way of thinking, and into an optimistic one.
“I’m totally good enough”
“People clearly care about me or else they would still be hanging around.”
“I might be shit at a few things, but so is everyone. There are some things I’m good at though”
“If everything is a waste of time, then what does it fucking matter. Stop looking at it like it’s a bad thing and focus on doing stuff you want to do, either way it’s the same waste of time”
Obviously it will take a while for me to change this way of thinking. I’ve spent the last 26 years keeping it “real”
But in reality the world is fucking depressing and boring. That’s no way to live.
I wana be one of those annoying people who just sees the good in everything. The opportunity in situations. The silver lining on the cloud. All that lame bullshit. However unlikely it may be.
If I can give myself a fucking headache, I can give myself a better outlook on life.
Let’s see if a still feel the same when I wake up….