Nefelibata

A lot of things have changed...

But the insomnia stays the same.

I keep loving the memory of you, of me back then, of us.

I must admit I still imagine bumping into you one of these days. What image of me would you get through your eyes? What thoughts would be crossing your mind?

I must admit I still miss you some days. Not the person you are today (that is a complete stranger), but the person you were once with me. But to be honest, I’m not so sure we would make any sense today.

I miss the songs we used to play, the catchy names we used to call each other, being in your embrace. I miss home. Or what used to be home, now I had to re-built something different, somewhere I would feel safe after the storm that shattered that place I used to call home.

I built a new life where you wouldn’t have a place in it. And yet, I’m still wondering what would you think of it. Would you be proud of me? Would you help me build these new projects I have in mind? Would... we? Could... we?

In my past relationship, my then boyfriend left me. Or maybe I was the reason he left. Or maybe I pushed him away because I couldn’t stand the lackness of security I was feeling when I was with him, about our future, if there was really an “our” or if we were just losing our time. Any way, we broke up. The day we broke up it was a few days before Christmas, so he gave me this present. It was a “I’m freaking out” journal. It was a journal filled with quotes about anxiety, blank pages to write on and it even included an anxiety-meter, so I could measure the level of anxiety I was having that day. He knew I had general anxiety, and nonetheless, he left. Maybe he couldn’t handle it, maybe it was me that couldn’t handle my anxiety when I was with him. The bottomline is we broke up.

I’m not here to talk about all the struggle and thoughts that went over and over again inside my head during the post breakup part.

I’m here to talk about starting over. When you are on your own, it is you against your thoughts, that’s it. You get it, or sometimes you don’t, but you try. Even though you might fail, you know it has a name, you now it comes with symptoms, you start to know yourself.

But, what happens when it’s not only you anymore? I started dating a new guy and currently we’ve been going out for about 3 months. I’ve been handling my anxiety quite good, no panic attacks, nothing. I’ve been a “good girl” lately. But recently, and due to all the work and pressure I’ve been having this past days, I’ve started questioning myself if I really have everything under my control, and he’s starting to notice certain habits. I take longer to text him back because I panic a little and I don’t want to confront things, because if I do I want everything to seem just perfect, I don’t want to say something wrong or let my anxiety slip away in a text, so I hold back as much time as I can.

I’ve been more quiet than I usually am because I have to argue with my own thoughts, there is a constant war in my head and I have to control and hush them.

I’ve been feeling un useful and not good enough for my parents, my friends, so I silently get out of the picture for a while, making me feel “antisocial” or with a lack of social life, when I was the one that pushed everyone away in the first place.

I want to tell him everything that’s going inside of me, but I’m afraid that he, as well, might go away. Certain thoughts of “if he goes away is that he isn’t the one, he doesn’t deserves you” comes into my mind, but that doesn’t help. The truth is, what I’m actually afraid is that he will judge me for my anxiety, that he can’t see past my anxiety. I’m so much more than that and I have so much more to offer. I don’t want to get a label or being defined by my anxiety. I have general anxiety, but I am not anxiety itself, I am not only something that I have. Because I’ve been struggling with this my whole life and I’m still here and I will still be. I know that I have the power to control my thoughts, and it’s a constant war with them of who is having the control every single time. It has made me stronger.

I’m afraid he won’t even give it a chance because he will be looking for every sign of anxiety, analyzing every move I make and having prejudices of how I may react in certain situations.

So here I am, not being sure if the timing is right to present him to my anxiety, or if I should wait longer, so he can know me better before he starts to associate everything I do with my anxiety, before he traps me in that label.

And by writing this I’m only concluding that he is not the one doing the judgements, I am. My anxiety is the one speaking all over again.

Maybe the journal wasn’t a bad idea after all, maybe it had a purpose. Thoughts will continue to come out, only that putting them into paper can make me realize how irrational they may be. Maybe I should give it a shot. Maybe I should start overthinking a little less and acting a little more.