Flowers In the Rain

I’ve been so anxious lately. Food, money, insurance, holidays… All of it combines into a crippling emotion that eats my brain and paralyzes my ability to function. I try to break it down, and ignore bits and pieces. And sometimes I succeed. Other times I find myself exhausted by stress, decision fatigue, and life in general, always with the big lump of anxiety looming in the background. There is only so much one can do about the fears our society likes to place on those of us without enough money. Even so, logic can only get you so far when fear mongers shout their fake news.

I’ve been trying very hard to focus on good things. My writing, my friends, my appointments, all of my go to distractions. I’ve even been able to be semi functional. It really bothers me that with all of this going on, I’ve let my mental health issues take over more of my life. All I really want is to be happy, relaxed, and unworried about the future. I want this hope that I have to lift me higher than all the things that want to hold me down. I want to be able to shine cheerfully, and grant others some of my hope. I want to be uplifting, not a gloomy anxious mess that brings everyone down.

Some days, all I want is to be with my friends. Even if they are just as frustrated and anxious as me. Depression never fully relinquishes its hold on me, but I keep wanting to “cheer up” the ones who are just as trapped as me. Call me naive, call me an optimist. I just can’t help it. I can wallow alone in depression, but if my friends are hurting too, I’d rather try and give them hope that things can change for the better.

That doesn’t mean I always win against my own depression, but I don’t really win against other people’s either. After all, my whole grandiose idealism can’t fix anything. I’m basically powerless in that regard. All I can do is listen, and try to be there for others, sometimes even putting their needs above my own. Yeah… Not the healthiest life choice, but sometimes it’s necessary.

I’ve been told by some people that writing about things that are relatable can make a difference in how alone others feel. That by sharing my darkness and pain, I can lessen some of theirs. If that is true, I’d be really glad. I’d also feel a little guilty that I keep as much of my writings to myself as I do. When I was younger I’d shout my feelings for the world to see. Now that I am older, I find myself holding back. Maybe years of not feeling heard caught up with me. Or maybe I’m more afraid of rejection.

I know that I’ve dealt with a lot of loss over the years, loss of friends, loss of memories, loss of sense of self. Loss of emotions. If I was a stronger person, I probably wouldn’t have had to lose so much that I held dear. I have hope that with the right type of therapy, I might get some of it back. Or at the very least, stop losing as much in the future. Right now my insurance is a mess, my therapist’s company is merging with another company and so referrals are going to take a while. Still, that still leaves me with hope.

Another thing that gives me hope, but that also causes anxiety is the thought of finding my soulmate, other half, life partner type person. As a romantic, it’s something I don’t want to give up on. I wonder if that person will value me? Will they view all of my depression and anxiety as something that makes me less valuable? If they did, I guess they wouldn’t be my destined one. All of my loneliness, anxiety, depression, and other things about me, they help shape who I am, and my creativity. Maybe this anxiety is just something to make me dive deeper into creative pursuits that might help others. Maybe someday, all of this will feel worth it. But for now… I’d really like the world to stop being on fire.