Thursday, January 27, 2011

If not in my house...

...then in whom's house does Anxiety live? You know what? I could really give a shit where that bitch lives; she doesn't live with ME anymore.

Even though, as humans, we're encouraged to not deny the feelings inside of us or the events arounds us and so on. However, there is a fine line between denial and self-fulfilling. It is my opinion that even though I admitted that I had a problem with anxiety/agoraphobia, somewhere down the line I also CONVINCED myself that I was suffering from these ailments and acted accordingly. I didn't act like my usual self, taking on the world like Wonder Woman. No, instead I believed every single symptom of these ailments and made them my own, changing myself into this cowering little girl who was incapable of doing anything on her own.

I'm sitting in a comfy chair situated on the Fourth Floor of the Library at the SRJC, looking down onto Santa Rosa, up here with the fluttering birds and realizing how small and insignificant I am when contrasted with the bigger picture of things. My world became so small and I was suffocating myself.

I'm no longer doing this to myself. I no longer react to a situation, catering to the anxious reactions I may have. I no longer accept anything less that being able to live and live comfortably in my mind and in my home with the family I love more than anything in the world. I'm never going to throw that away, so don't dare ask me to. I am back and in control.

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