Sun, tea and brightness is what fills my room today, and the cold of course, which makes me want to be under the bed covers and never leave, I think the heater is not handling it anymore. I write here, sitting, drinking a hot mint tea, but even here sitting, glancing at times to the computer and at times at the window, I know I am far. Even listening to a calm and deep song, I am far, really far. I feel like being in another dimension, like being here feeling my surroundings is just part of the whole, as the other part insists in looking in the future, but not in a good and healthy way, not searching for dreams and making plans for the next weekend which comes full of hope…Maybe this is the problem, hope, too much hope, waiting, in fact the problem is waiting. I can’t wait, don’t have the patience, that’s also the problem, patience. I’m here sitting in agony in wait for the time to prepare my lunch, agony… It’s what I feel, and not only when I am having a panic attack, no… I feel it always, from having to go buy bread to waiting for lunch time. With agony comes gear, of not knowing how people will react to each word that comes from your mouth, you shiver and sweat cold, smile most of the times and while the person is talking you are thinking what comes after without stopping paying attention of what’s happening. E when the phrase is heard: “We should go out some day for a coffee”, you start breathing faster and even feel happy, you would like after all, but then all of sudden you create a future where everything can go wrong, thinking that you can’t even speak about it because people wouldn’t like, saying it’s loneliness, that you only want attention, so you shake your head smiling but ask in silence that the person won’t hate you if you give up suddenly.
That reminds me when I went out with the recent friend I made, I was shaking, didn’t know much what to say or how to behave and didn’t know how to tell I was terrified, happy in fact, curious to know her better, but still terrified, afraid of the unknown, I was there and half of me too, but the the other half was far, thinking about the future, afraid and insecure. I told her that I didn’t have many friends, for feeling too much and expecting too much, that I wasn’t open but that I liked her way, because she was most of the things that inspire me to be a better person. I don’t know if she understood how deep I wanted to go with those words, don’t know if people in general understand.
I am here sitting and my head hurts, the music that I was listening is over and another started like a melody way more calm, my tea has gone cold… And now I am a little sad, it’s still not time for my lunch, but the sun is even brighter, should be wrong to be sad when its sunny outside. But I smile instead, when notes of the piano plays on the song and the song gets sweet and smooth… There is no singing, I prefer without a singer when I am like this. I prefer to be alone when I am like this, drinking my tea, wrapped in a blanket. I don’t read when I am like this, it irritates me, it’s not the book’s fault, nor mine. I like to lay down and look at the ceiling while listening to musics like the one I described before, then I close my eyes and try to empty my mind, I swear that I try. But my mind is always a mess…. always concerned. Sometimes I cry, cry to the point of getting hiccups, sometimes I cry silently while looking through the window, like I am now, cry because of sadness or cry to wash my soul. I also feel alone like I am right now. I don’t like feeling alone, but I like being alone sometimes. Confusing? A little. I don’t like having to be concerned about my actions, concerned about affecting someone, but I am concerned. I felt good when I took my medicine, I confess, and have hope that one day I find something to better my soul, there is yoga and meditation, but I think that deep there I’m not right for that kind of thing. There’s that too, these last few days I’ve been asking myself on what I’m good at, I learned crochet, I’m still learning actually…. but my squares aren’t perfect, I try to take pictures but they never end up like I wanted… I write but… I don’t know.
Having anxiety is hard, sometimes you’re feeling well, then some minutes later something makes you sad. It’s being here and at the same time miles away, it’s suffering in anticipation… It’s loving too much, it’s creating problems bigger than they are, just for not being able to see any other way, it’s being afraid of making friends, being introverted, it’s needing a hug most of the time, and knowing about everything and still not changing anything.
It’s time for lunch and I’ll cook my cauliflower, lay down a bit and imagine a place which the present is enough for me.