Fakin' it.
I like to pretend that I'm a lot more confident than I am -- fake it 'til you make it, y'know -- but if there's one thing I've learned this year through all the experiences I'm forcing myself to go through (teaching, volunteering, taking classes), it's that I have a hard time doing things on my own.
I have to repress my feelings of inadequacy and fear when I'm faced with a new experience. I have to push myself out of my comfort zone, often finding new reasons and excuses to do the pushing. It's difficult and terrifying and I usually have to blast Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds" to remind myself that no matter what happens, everything will be all right. It's never as bad as I imagine it could be.
And what I'm realizing is that, yeah. I'm not afraid being alone per se (I'm comfortable going to the movies or going for a coffee by myself), but rather of facing new experiences by myself. I've always known I have anxiety problems -- a friend says she and I are alike in that regard -- but I'd never known just how severe my anxiety was until this year. I'm having nightmares. I've actually stopped breathing a few times. I tremble. In short, it interferes with my life more than I'd like to admit. There was a time, not too long ago, after all, when I would purposefully avoid parties and new people. There was a time when work and extracurricular activities took precedence over expanding my social life. There was a time when I would arrive at least two hours early to a friend's party in the hopes of shrinking into the background and becoming one with the furniture.
So I made a change this year.
I read somewhere a few months ago that the more you expose yourself to certain situations, the more you feel at ease. I signed up for volunteer opportunities where it would be just me. I signed up for classes in the hopes of pushing myself to do things on my own. I forced myself to teach. It was useful information to incorporate into my life, especially in those instances when:
the reward is greater than the struggle.
So I'll keep forging on; going boldly where I have never gone before, because living with anxiety is the alternative -- and I'm sick of that.
I have to repress my feelings of inadequacy and fear when I'm faced with a new experience. I have to push myself out of my comfort zone, often finding new reasons and excuses to do the pushing. It's difficult and terrifying and I usually have to blast Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds" to remind myself that no matter what happens, everything will be all right. It's never as bad as I imagine it could be.
And what I'm realizing is that, yeah. I'm not afraid being alone per se (I'm comfortable going to the movies or going for a coffee by myself), but rather of facing new experiences by myself. I've always known I have anxiety problems -- a friend says she and I are alike in that regard -- but I'd never known just how severe my anxiety was until this year. I'm having nightmares. I've actually stopped breathing a few times. I tremble. In short, it interferes with my life more than I'd like to admit. There was a time, not too long ago, after all, when I would purposefully avoid parties and new people. There was a time when work and extracurricular activities took precedence over expanding my social life. There was a time when I would arrive at least two hours early to a friend's party in the hopes of shrinking into the background and becoming one with the furniture.
So I made a change this year.
I read somewhere a few months ago that the more you expose yourself to certain situations, the more you feel at ease. I signed up for volunteer opportunities where it would be just me. I signed up for classes in the hopes of pushing myself to do things on my own. I forced myself to teach. It was useful information to incorporate into my life, especially in those instances when:
the reward is greater than the struggle.
So I'll keep forging on; going boldly where I have never gone before, because living with anxiety is the alternative -- and I'm sick of that.
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