[Image: 6-piece blue colored background with a Siamese cat.Top text reads: “Finally get chance to see school psychologist for depression”
Bottom text reads: “Anxiety prevents you from leaving the house”]
Ain’t that always how it happens?
I am reblogging this, as silly as it may seem, because this is currently the story of my life. I’m putting this behind the “Read More” break because it may be “TMI” for some.
Or maybe it’s just “Shy Girl Problems”?
This is not what I originally came here to “blog” about, believe it or not. A few days ago I finished a necklace as a mother’s day gift for my mom. I took pictures of the progress with the intention of blogging about it, as I hear that’s apparently a good thing to do if you’re an artist (of any sort). I got my pictures all nice and ready to go, made a new tumblr photoset post and then proceeded to stare at the screen. I didn’t know how to start.
Maybe this is what’s referred to as writer’s/artist’s block, I’m honestly not entirely sure because I’ve always considered artist block to be what I’m currently going through in terms of my painting and drawing, where I can’t even think of what to paint/draw, so starting doesn’t even come into question. I don’t generally have problems starting a piece, it’s having an idea or concept that’s the issue. So for me, this wasn’t quite the same, as I knew what I wanted to talk about and had everything ready to go, I just didn’t know how to start. I like to blame my anxiety for things like that, because my mind feels like such a jumbled mess that I don’t even know where to begin most of the time. However I’m now wondering if it’s really anxiety making it that way or if it’s just my personality, a personality flaw, if you will. I’ve always thought of it though as if my anxiety does shape and define my personality, because this is what you live with, day in and day out, so that’s what you end up adapting to.
Today is currently a struggle and I am well aware of the fact that I am failing a few people right now that are currently depending/waiting on me for things but no matter how hard I try and how hard I want to, I just can’t bring myself to… move. The whole “just be an adult about it and suck it up” self-depreciating voice shouting in my head at myself isn’t working either. The usual round of excuses rear their heads, I feel too tired and too exhausted and it’s too daunting and I can’t even think. Don’t ask me what “it” is. I don’t know myself. It just is.
This isn’t an “I’m sorry”, because I don’t feel like I deserve that much.