I’m not the adult that “little me” had envisioned. Anxiety and depression have played a big role in the demise of that vision but more than that, the way I let those disorders take over my life has played an even bigger role.
A few months ago, I read some old diary entries and I couldn’t believe how long I had been suffering. I didn’t even realize how much of my life had been consumed by anxiety and depression. And my marital problems didn’t help. I didn’t think my life would ever get better. I felt stuck. I couldn’t see how I’d ever feel happy. Now that my marriage is over, I feel like I can breathe. This feeling didn’t come over night though. My heart and my brain threw my anxiety and depression into a frenzy during our divorce. I didn’t think that I would ever feel better. And while I still don’t feel like a fully functional person, I don’t feel like I’m drowning anymore. I feel like my life is once again unpredictable; who knows what will happen but at least I know it won’t continue in an unhappy marriage. I have the chance to live.
I keep wanting to plan the next stage of my life but there’s just so much holding me back. Money, fear, and just confusion. I know what I don’t want. I know some of what I do want. I just don’t know how to narrow it down and make it happen.
Here’s what I know:
I don’t want to stay where I am: Living with my father (where I have no space of my own) in an area that I not only can’t afford but also has a large drug population.
I want to live somewhere with mild weather: But I have NO idea where or how to go about making such a drastic change all by myself.
I want to travel: Money and anxiety have always held me back from experiencing life on the other side of the ocean. I’m terrified of flying and I’m not sure how I’d cope doing it all alone. I’m also still paying off student loans, so it’s hard to save a lot. Even if all of that weren’t an issue, I have no idea how to plan a trip like that nor do I know exactly where I’d like to go. My list just keeps growing.
I want to write more: I guess that’s part of the reason I started this blog. Writing used to be my way of coping with all of the stressors in my life. Somewhere along the way I abandoned it but lately I’ve been feeling the need to include it in my healing process. More than that, though, I want to write more so that maybe I can write a novel. One of my childhood dreams was to be a writer, one who wrote famous novels that touched the lives of many. Maybe it’s not a realistic goal but I think it’s a little more attainable than my dream to sing (although in this day and age, it doesn’t seem that skill is really required to make it as a singer).
Slowly, I’m working to make these decisions, to figure out exactly what it is I want. It’s hard to convince myself that I won’t stay stuck, since for years I had been but I’m trying to fix that, to rebuild my life into the one I had envisioned as a child.