anxiety

Believe It To See It?

~ Jessi ~ Leave a comment

I remember even as a kid I thought too much. I used to wonder if what I saw in the mirror was really what I looked like. or if my cp affected how I viewed myself and no one had the heart to tell me. That’s a weird thing for a child to think, which is probably why I never told anyone. I’m curious about that theory again.

My self-image has been so pore lately. I pick myself apart like buzzards do with prey. Is my mind a predator, and I’m the prey? As I just had that epiphany, I realize how utterly messed-up it is. Your mind is everything. If its against you, then what?

I went and had some photos taken today because my parents wanted “senior pictures”. The photographer is a friend so she thought it’d be cool for us to do them in front of the graffiti walls downtown. I had anxiety, which is nothing new. She kept on showing me pictures as we went. She kept on telling how “gorgeous’’ I was. I DON’T UNDERSTAND. I don’t understand how everyone else can see such beauty, and I see such…such flaws. I speak, I believe that differences make you even more beautiful. Why can’t I seem to believe that about myself? How am I supposed to make people view me as being perfect the way that I am, if I can’t even make myself?

IMG_8908IMG_8938

Leaky Faucet

~ Jessi ~ Leave a comment

“Don’t let others control your mood or happiness.” That’s what my therapist tells me. Well,…..that’s easier said then done. I’ve been hurt a lot in general. I’ve been hurt a lot by people who supposedly cared about me. So when a guy who I met and hung out with this summer, and who told me he loved me,……dropped me like I was nothing, I was done. He didn’t break my heart. I wasn’t very invested in him. It did sting a lot. Pored salt in every wound of insecurity. Maybe I’ll talk about that experience in another post. Anyway, after that, I didn’t want to get to know anyone new, especially not a guy. Life had other plans though. This guy engaged me on Instagram in November. Part of me didn’t want to respond, but I did. We started texting everyday. It was nice to have someone easy to talk to. He ended up living five hours from our second home. I met him on New Year’s Day and spent time with him. When you have physical struggles, it can be terrifying to put yourself out there. “What if he thinks I’m broken? What if he hates actually seeing me in my wheelchair? What if he hates the difference in my speech?” These were all in my head, but I didn’t want to let fear hold me back. So I took that leap. It was so easy being around him. Normally, it takes me awhile to get vocally comfortable with someone. It took no time with him. He helped me when I needed it. Just simple. He told me he’d come back when I’m there in February.
I haven’t talked to him in a week and a half. My mind goes to the dark side. I don’t know what’s wrong. Not knowing is the worst part. Insecurities are leaking out everywhere. I feel like a leaky faucet.

Speech

~ Jessi ~ Leave a comment

I’m hyper focused on my speech lately and it’s killing me. I laid in bed all night having terrible anxiety about going to see a movie with a girl I’ve never met today. It’s as if my chest is caving in on itself, and I’m at a point where I don’t know where to turn. I want to crawl out of my skin so badly and run. I also desperately want to not care what I sound like. You’d think being able to talk fine would be enough for your mind….but no. It wants me to talk perfect.

Satisfaction

~ Jessi ~ Leave a comment

For the past week, my anxiety has been high. I already have pretty heavy anxiety, so when I say high, I mean it feels like someone is sitting on my chest. Anxiety can make you feel like you’re crazy. You’re not crazy though. I’m not crazy either. Even though I might feel like it sometimes(a lot lately). This week in particular has been rough. I keep on finding myself worrying largely about this one topic:….Satisfaction. One thing about depression is that it causes you to think irrational thoughts, which really sucks. I’m just seventeen, I have a lot of goals, a lot of things I want to do and I’m going to do, I know my future is writing. So why am I worrying myself sick about being satisfied? Or never being satisfied? It’s illogical, yet I’m still doing it. That’s depression. That’s anxiety. It feels like your thoughts aren’t yours anymore. BUT they are. I’ve spent years being told “you have control, it’s up to you.” A lot of you have probably heard that before and god, it’s annoying because they don’t understand. Right? I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I’m starting to understand that phrase. Your mind is yours. When I catch myself worrying about satisfaction, I redirect. I focus on something else. Does it fix it? No. The thoughts come back, but it helps. Tomorrow I’m going to make a list of my goals, of things I have to look forward to. I’m just going to make it for the next year because it’s not good to look to far out. If you’re struggling with this, you should do it with me. Live your life in the moment, but be excited for your future.