manic monday

As I sat and pondered about what to share this marvelous Monday, I realized I had some draft blog posts that were unpublished but anxiously waiting to be shared with the world. This one, in particular, was a legitimate stream of consciousness I started to write in order to avoid a panic attack. I’ve found that writing my racing thoughts down, or typing them in this case, really helps me stay focused on the present moment instead of getting whisked away to an anxious state that really serves no positive purpose for me. So for anyone out there looking for a peek behind the curtain of the inner-workings of my mind, enjoy!

Anxiety and depression for me is fear and doubt. In a nutshell.

The feeling of walking into a room and even though you might know every person present, not being able to know for sure if they are excited to see you.

Anxiety is fear of the unknown. For me, this is hard because I love the uncertainties that life brings. The excitement of a surprise is what drives me giddy and brings so much joy and happiness into my world. However, it’s amazing how quickly that excitement of the unknown can turn into fear and trepidation.

Other terms for anxiety: concern, worry, bother, thinking.

Thinking, in my opinion, is one of my strong suits. One of my favorite parts of myself. I’m always thinking, always worrying. It’s amazing how quickly my thinking can go from explorative to harmful, almost like the flip of a switch and I’m in a state of panic and paranoia without even trying. Despite the pain and agony it causes me, I have to say I am impressed with my own ability to change and shift so quickly without ever even trying.

Chameleon-like if you ask me. Shapeshifter. Like Randall from Monster’s Inc. No wonder he made a good scary monster. Lurking in the corner of your mind without the slightest indication he’s there until he shakes off his camouflage and meets you eye to eye.

How is it that every thought I think eventually circles back to Disney? Am I truly destined to work there or have I just been brainwashed to believe I’m destined for greatness to continue to participate in the fucking destructive social construct known as the patriarchy… thoughts for another time I suppose.

Is anxiety or depression leading me to believe I’ve been brainwashed? Or do I have my obsessions to thank for that?

Ah, obsessive thinking. Here you are, my dear loyal friend.

Shame. Oh, the ever-present shame game. How could I forget about you? Well, maybe it’s because you don’t quite fit in… or at least, you shouldn’t. You bring so much rumination and doubt and fear into my life, I almost want you to stop existing altogether. I know you must serve some kind of purpose, but it becomes harder and harder for me to see where you fit in my life the more I strive for inner peace and following my heart. Hope you understand if we need to part ways or restructure our relationship. I would love to say, “It’s not you, it’s me” but it’s a million percent you.

Try as I might to not have a mini panic attack if I publish this, I will still sit and stare off into space in a daze after I push the simple button and send my thoughts out to the world. What on earth do I think I’m doing sharing these embarrassing unnecessary thoughts with people who otherwise stay distant and unconnected from me? Maybe I expect too much from other people when they have essentially no idea what I’m going through. I mean, how can they unless I tell them?

I guess this is my way of telling people. It’s not as formal as I’d like, but I guess it’s one way of putting it out there. I’ve struggled a lot to be a good friend in the past few years. It’s been an internal struggle that unfortunately bled into my day to day existence without much thought or effort. My hopeful side likes to chime in with, “Maybe it was supposed to happen that way for a reason.” My hopeful side has been chiming in a lot more lately with wise one-liners that have been making my experiences seem worthwhile.

“Worthwhile” like that snippet Mulan says to herself when she has goals for how she wants to feel when she looks in the mirror. Worthwhile. Who even says that? Deep-ass warrior ladies like Mulan do. Dammit, Disney. My obsession and knowledge are so deep and pervasive I honestly must be destined to have some important role in the company. President? CEO? Queen of the Disney Universe?

My goals and aspirations are often times so lofty and seemingly unattainable it almost seems natural that anxiety would want to come along for the ride. How can I ever have a magical miraculous story to tell if I don’t have enough ammunition of things I’ve overcome in the process of chasing my dreams?

Rambling is another thing I do best. Rambling, thinking, talking, over-explaining, sharing too much, the cycle seems to never end. I attempt to convince myself that I want to lead a more private and down to earth life but then the moment that I’m able to share something with another person, I take center stage and put forth my best performance of a dramatic reenactment of the event or retelling of the story. There just has to be a reason that I’m made this way, doesn’t there?

I’ve been existing in the depressing reality of there being no reason for my insanity for far too long. I’m more than ready to live in the reality where I’m made this way for a magical purpose. I’m meant to share my gifts with the world, I know this much to be true. Putting my thoughts into the world via the internet is just the first stepping stone to my ascension into my Disney Throne, I suppose. Watch out, Elsa, this queen is coming for you.

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