I don’t feel as overwhelmed and depressive as I did before.
But I still feel very anxious.
Everything makes me anxious.
But it’s under control, somewhat.
I try not to let it get to me.
I plan everything out before it has the time to get to me, full force, so I don’t feel like crawling into bed and staying there for eternity. Avoiding all responsibilities. Dreading social interactions.
The best thing I can do for myself is to make me hate myself.
Make me hate myself for getting out of bed.
Make me hate myself for engaging in social interactions.
And walk towards my responsibilities for I will thank myself later.
I now plan everything out in advance.
I have a paper due on March 25 and I have already finished the majority of it, even though it may be horribly written, I have something that I can go from without panicking.
I am trying to do all my readings for my classes, but inevitably ruled some out.
I still have the entire semester’s worth of readings to catch up on for one the courses, but that’s okay.
I’ll figure it out, hopefully.
I mentally prepare myself for the week that is to come.
I plan everything out.
Every task I have to do. Every task I should try to attempt. Every little thing.
Although my time management is very unreasonable, I try.
I plan for three tasks when I only have time to get through one.
Not to mention that I still avoid my responsibilities by taking very LONG breaks and realize that if I had taken shorter breaks, I would be done everything by now.
And this often leads to more avoidance of responsibilities because ‘it’s too late now’.
I tell people about how I plan for everything. How I try to get everything done ahead of time.
I do this because it helps me and my anxiety symptoms.
But they don’t understand.
I don’t want to talk about it, but it comes up and I end up mentioning it.
They say it’s good.
In a way, it is. But they don’t understand the reason.
I wouldn’t be doing this if I had a choice.
I’m cornered by my own monsters, and the only way to creep out is during the short time I have before they attack again.
It may look good and productive to them, but they don’t know how it feels.
It’s also not very productive. I end up not getting much done. It just looks good.
It helps me feel good for a split second.
I have also been finding the time to read, and I think that it’s really helping me.
It helps me to escape. To someplace else where I don’t exist. Where I can be someone else. A place where I don’t live with anxiety symptoms.
I do all these things and I feel better.
But I still don’t know what I’m doing.
Why it has to be this way.
Why I can’t just control my symptoms.
Planning gives me control over my life, it makes me feel like I am running my life instead of my symptoms.
But in reality, they are still running my life, because it is they what makes me act this way.
My sense of control is all illusional, but I’ll take it.