Dating in your 30’s is not a whole heck of a lot of fun. But dating in your 30’s when you suffer from anxiety, well that’s when shit gets real interesting, folks. I’ve recently taken it upon myself to find shiny new ways to oscillate between self-destruction and self-preservation, when it comes to matters of the heart. And when I first thought about it, I hesitated in even writing this post. But then I realized that I started this blog to help people, with not only their physical health, but also with their mental health. And with that said, cue the need for transparency and vulnerability.
Hope can be one of the best and worst things for my anxiety. I used to think that clinging onto it was the only way to surmount the rising pressure of my symptoms. But over time, I started to see how detrimental it could be to always feel like I need to go to a place of optimism and high expectations. As negative as it may sound, that mentality actually sets me up for failure against the daily battle with my mental illness.
Insane. Bonkers. Stupid. Lazy. Obsessive. Paranoid. Crazy. Weird. Sad. Useless. Lonely. Burden. Dramatic. Awkward. Nervous. Antisocial. Inconvenience. Unbalanced. Needy.
All of these words describe exactly how I think people feel about me. And although everyone around me would strongly object to the fact that I am any of these things, this is ultimately a projection of how I feel about myself. We’ve all heard at least some of these words used to describe someone with a form of mental illness, at one point in our lives. But in reality, it’s just not so black and white.
Hi. My name is Catherine and I suffer from mental illness.