There's nothing especially insightful or philosophical about this post, but I wanted to quickly touch on what it's like when anxiety hits and there's no clear reason.
I woke up anxious today, and I can't explain why.
My life is beautiful. I am happy. I am hopeful. But today, I was also anxious.
I'm not sad about a boy (actually, quite the opposite, but that is a post for another day). No one has died. I'm a little homesick--being in Seattle and wishing I was on the east coast--but that's not such a big deal. I'm not having trouble at work. I even had a great weekend with an out-of-town friend.
But today, I was still anxious.
I didn't eat well because I was anxious. I ate frozen sweet potato fries for lunch.
I slept much of the day.
TMI, perhaps: My dermatillomania was especially acute today; I have a sunburn on my scalp that is peeling, causing the urge to pick to soar.
I did this online self-care tutorial, and I forced myself to shower, and to drink a glass of water, and to text a friend, and to make those sweet potato fries, and to call my dog over to snuggle.
(I'm blessed to have that amazing friend to text (and to suggest online self-care tutorials) when I have days like this, by the way. BIG shout out to her, and to my mom and sister, who both talked to me later in the day.)
Someone asked me why I was anxious, and I had no real answer. I said some things about how others around me are experiencing trauma, and that sometimes I'm overly empathetic to the point that the trauma of others triggers feelings in me. I also said something about how my colitis is flaring because I stupidly drank two glasses of wine two nights ago, and how this has made my body feel especially exhausted. I also said something about how holidays are hard.
But, while they may be exacerbating the symptoms, none of those things really feels like the root cause of the anxiety.
And I think I am feeling better now, but I am going to go to bed early tonight, and I hope that I wake up without anxiety tomorrow.
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