In a lot of ways, my life has improved immensely after being diagnosed with PMDD and going through treatment. Prior to that, I think I spent the majority of my days being terrified of everything. I was afraid to go to work because what if I had a melt down? What if I started crying at my desk and couldn’t stop? I was afraid to be with my wife because what if I lost my temper and she got angry with me or walked out on me? Most of all, I was fricken’ terrified of being alone because I didn’t trust myself. I was so emotionally unstable and had such unhealthy coping skills that I was honestly afraid of MYSELF. That’s kind of crazy when I think about it–actually fearing your own mind–but it’s so real for so many people. But that’ s just how it is.
I don’t find myself fearing those things as much anymore because
1.) MEDS. I never ever ever thought medication would help me, but it truly has.
2. KNOWLEDGE. I actually have some one of an idea of what is going on with my body and it makes me feel a little bit more in control of myself. I think that was really the biggest part of it before–not feeling in control of anything. Since I have a touch of OCD, I truly appreciate control 😉
So great–less fear right? Except now, I find myself fearing other things that I didn’t have time to care about before because I was too consumed in my depression. I think the big one for me is my writing. For a long time I stopped writing because I could barely get out of bed let alone motivate myself to write. But now, my head is clearer and I want so badly to do the things that have always made me happy in the past. Writing has always been this anchor for me- this piece of me that keeps me grounded, that allows me to pour the swirly galaxy of words in my brain into something else. But now that I’ve started again, that shred of self doubt always finds a way to hinder me. I’m afraid nothing I write is good enough. I don’t know, for the life of me, how to visually create a blog that I think is beautiful, so it stresses me out and makes me not want to write. I don’t know if people will like or listen to what I write–so I think what’s the point? I submit my articles and immediately believe they will be rejected because I’m not good enough.
Fear. Is. A. Son. Of. A. Bitch.
The thing that happens is when fear comes and tells me it’s not going to be good enough, I just don;t do it at all. Instead of trying to write, just giving it a try, I miss out on the opportunity to create something beautiful. How do I call myself a writer if I don’t write?
You have to want it, more than you’re afraid of it, right? So here goes. I am not saying I am going to get rid of that fear because let’s be honest, that’s just not realistic. If it wants to come along for the ride, fine by me…but I’m driving. Fear can take a back seat.