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I recently dug up an old folder filled with scraps of paper and a dusty notebook that included some of the thoughts and some poetry from my earliest days of writing. As I poured over the old scribblings I remembered the time of my life that the had come from, a time when I was at my lowest, letting the darkness close in around. I have since recognized how low I was during that time and been able to open up about my struggle with anxiety as I climbed up out of the pit.
What follows are many of thoughts and “poems” that I am calling Snapshots of Anxiety. They are each a look into my mindset during some of my greatest struggles and some are merely a single sentence. Many are just plain bad, but I thought they could provide a little insight to some out there, so here they come nonetheless. I will try to follow each one with a bit more insight into the times and situations that triggered them, if I am able to recall the details. I would love to hear other veiwpoints on these and welcome comments and questions.
This snapshot came with a rare bit of optimism attached to it, but with contingencies. It was more or less directed at other dreamers and hopes for their success. I had convinced myself that any dreams of mine were only to be chased and never captured. I could not find a compelling reason why I would be able to achieve anything that I reached for. Why me? Why would I find success over anybody else? I was just a part of the masses and nothing more. This was the driving argument.
My dreams of writing had only just developed and seemed more of a fleeting thought but it kept returning and brought a compulsion to put my thoughts down. It became my therapy just as much as my desire but I still would not let myself believe that I could ever make anything out of the idea, I scribbled away nonetheless, I guess just hoping that some form of divine intervention would intercede on my behalf and bring me up in spite of myself.
The one positive idea that I did employ while scratching away at papers and waiting on miracles was that at least I was not wasting the minutes by staring at walls, I was doing something, even if I was convinced that it was all for not. This has been my greatest struggle; even if I allow myself to try diving into something that I have dreamed of, I can’t let go of the idea that I am not good enough, that I can never make it work. The “Why me?” argument persists and continually breaks down hope.
It was several years later that I refocused and realized that the question had changed. “Why would I be able to find success?” became “Why not me?” Why not any of us? We are not just a part of the mass that inhabits this world, we are individuals in a crowd and each one of us is capable of standing out. It may not always be in the way that we hoped but any of us can find success in many ways. It may just be that we are asking the wrong question.
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