What I know, and what I’m still searching for. May 22, 2009

It’s a hot, hot day. Not exactly good weather for us tropical-island types here.

Why am I here?

It seems that nowadays, I’m blogging out of boredom rather than for fun, though I need to type something to kick start my inspiration.

 

The past few days have been odd. Waves of mild anxiety, then calm, then bouts of worrying for nothing, or things that I don’t know why I’m even caring about.

 

Worry is a funny thing. It’s like a bit like a drug, minus the side effects and temorary euphoria. It’s toxic, but it’s also addictive. The more I worry the more you depend on it, even though I don’t want to have it. Yet once I try being without it after I’ve had it for a long time, I feel so insecure that my mind is free of anxiety that I push it back in so I can have something there. I feel so empty, so void of emotions when I’m not constantly thinking about something, about how that something would turn out, or how I would react or behave in a certain situation. Those thoughts slowly become a part of me, and once I stop, it feels like I’m removing part of myself too.

 

The worry isn’t bad, really. It’s not even anxiety, it’s not REAL worry, where it takes over your life and you lose 10 pounds because you’re so caught up in it. It’s just something at the back of your mind, something you’ve thought about so much that it becomes so deeply entrenched, like a habit. It’s annoying, but it also provides some base for that sense of security that I largely lack.

 

I wonder why I said that earlier. Said that I felt that worry was part of my identity. There must have been some truth in it, or I wouldn’t have thought of it in the first place. And it’s funny really, because I never used to worry. I just feel that I don’t belong to myself anymore. I’ve got so many commitments and I feel pulled in all directions, but its not like I was never willing to allow it to happen, because I was. I just miss the times when I was able to have an entire afternoon all to myself, without having to try to remember what I need to do, where I need to go for whatever activity or class. I miss the freedom I had over my life, when ironically, I’m actually having more freedom on campus than I used to.

 

Yet it might be because I don’t feel like I’m myself that I may be forcing myself to worry. I realise that all this is coming from my past experiences, things I used to worry about that don’t seem worth worrying over now. Yet it just feels odd when I don’t feel worried about something that I may have been dreadfully worried about a year ago. But because this not worrying over something I used to worry over is so foreign to me, I may just be trying to convince myself that I’m still worried over these things, I’m still me. It’s quite scary when something I was afraid of the years before suddenly seems insignificant, and I’m not sure if this is because the memory of past years are fading, or because I’m really changing. It makes me feel insecure somehow.

 

I’m still as confused. And I feel very trapped, because there’s no way I can get out of this rut except to wait and hope that time will mould me into someone I can be confident being, someone I’m sure I am.

 

I think its pretty obvious from the top few paragraphs that as much as I try to understand myself, and how I’m behaving, or feeling, I’m still pretty confused. The only thing I can be sure of, more than anything, is that I still need freedom to stay sane. It’s not that I want to do anything crazy(though sometimes I do) or taboo. I just need to know that I can keep my options open in case I want to change my mind. I’m indecisive. I need choices. 

 

It’s like at a camp bent on enforcing discipline through regimentation, where they confiscate all your personal belongings. Wallets, handphones, mp3s… I cried because when I was homesick and wanted to call home, I had no way of doing so sicne my phone was confiscated. But at another camp where I was allowed freedom to use my phone as and when I liked, I realised that I didn’t need to call home at all(since I wasn’t homesick) because I had the option and choice of using it if I wanted to. So its not about what I NEED to do or have, but rather, whether I’m ALLOWED the choice of doing or having it, even if I don’t need to do or have it.

 

Ann Brashares wrote about this in one of her ‘Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants’ books, though I can’t remember the exact sentence since I recall concepts more easily than the words themselves.

As long as I have resources, my needs are small.