Most of you who know me know that I am the eternal optimist. The romantic sentimental idealist who chooses love, who chooses happily ever after. I am the hope junkie who rides life without a crash helmet veering from crushing defeat to ecstatic triumph. From agony to ecstasy. My anxiety means I am also full of energy, sometimes angst and sometimes good energy. Medication is not an option for me. I have tried many with disastrous consequence. I manage my anxiety Agatha and while I sometimes long for in between and calm dove grey it seems blinding brilliant white and pitch dark black are more the colours of my palette called me.
As I mentioned in my last blog post the past 5 years have been rough. Much of the real sh*t stuff that happens is too personal to share or involves others but I mentioned enough to reveal that for half a decade life has been a series of huge waves that dump me sucking me under and just when I pop up to gasp for air and get the sand out my bikini bottoms another set rolls in and I have to fight my way through the rough sea. Each year I start off saying THIS year is going to be better. Its going to be happy, easier, less eventful, more gentle. The ocean will be an azure blue and I will happily bob along in tepid temperatures. For the first time I dare not think it or say it. The bible says to speak things into existence and I really do believe we need to speak life but somehow I have lost my Mel-Mojo. Could the hope junkie have disappeared? I am not cynical but I am also feeling horribly realistic. Like life doesn't owe me, I don't have a guarantee of a happier easier year. Stuff happens every day and why should I be exempt. Its a horrible feeling and Gary misses the up and down me. The girl who although gets so crushed also gets so frikkin excited and happy. I miss her too. I am afraid to climb up, to hope, to look out for fairies and unicorns living in my garden. I am afraid that another fall from my super happy high place will break me forever so I dare not climb up there.
Do I stay this realist where its safer? Do I live each day working towards my goals and cherishing all I have. Do I let go of certain pictures that I was so certain were true? I can't live in the past and I want to move forward and I am truly excited about my study goals and my exercise goals. The excitement is that mix of anticipation, anxiety, expectation and hope. Yes, hope. I guess I do still hope but I do it a little more cautiously and hold back instead of recklessly throwing myself in. I loved being brave. I loved that I was able to hope again after each setback and believing that things would turn around. Maybe its not losing my balls? Maybe its just growing up at the grand age of 42 and half? I don't know.
PS: Just read my post. Maybe I am depro? PMS? No, just don't know whats up with me??