Anxious people are not well-known for their ability to let anything go. It's our curse to allow things to gnaw away at our innermost selves, all the while attempting to project a ray of sunshine into the world, the former making the latter all the more difficult. It is my humble opinion that people who endure an anxiety disorder are the deepest thinkers and the best pretenders. Their, our, whole life is a lie. This gives us a very pragmatic outlook on the world.
I'm a realist, and nothing less. I have a very matter-of-fact view on the world, and I very rarely get genuinely excited about anything. People only see what I allow them to see, and I like that about myself. I even deign to consider myself to be more open and honest than most. However, at my core I know who I am and how I tick. I rely on facts. I have a hard time believing in anything I can't prove. My belief in God has been a struggle for this reason. I fear I go through far more doubts than the average "good Christian", but I keep at it no less. I can't have made it through everything I have without some sort of divine intervention, so that's where my soul makes peace with my mind.
I have no doubts that my realist outlook on life lends itself an accessory to my anxiety. In fact, I can prove that one. There are two of me in this world; the one that exists in my mind, and the one that I present to the world. Who I present myself to be changes year to year, day to day, moment to moment. Who I am in my own mind is my only constant, yet remains to be the person I want to change. I change my clothes hoping my attitude changes. I change my hair hoping it gives me a new personality. A little tip: Nothing changes.
I suppose that's why I'm doing this. Writing is an incredible act of self-invasion. Letting out thoughts that no one would otherwise be privy to is a very personal act, whether you're writing an ad or an autobiography. You're putting yourself out there for the world to see, like an animal on display. You're letting your innermost thoughts escape their cage to expose your every vulnerability. Maybe by exposing my thoughts, I can reveal to myself the secret to finally changing myself for the better.
I've always found it funny that I always seem to end up in positions that by nature I'm uncomfortable in. I don't like putting myself out there, but I don't like living in my head all the time either. In order to present myself to the world, I have to pull off the most masterful of deceptions. I have to pretend I'm successful. I have to pretend that I'm confident. I have to pretend like I'm not thinking of a million and one ways this could go wrong. Even with this blog, I've already found myself thinking, "No one will read it. You're wasting your time. A year is a long time. You can't possibly find that many things you're grateful for".
That's not what this is about though. I don't care if anyone reads, because in the end, it's me who I hope is changed. I guess that makes me at least a little optimistic. Optimistic that this will work, anyway. And for that, I'm grateful.
~A Cautiously Optimistic Lolli
