I have been told that some days are better than others when it comes to depression and anxiety. The goal is to eventually have more good days than bad days. “use your coping tools,” they tell you. “Be assertive with yourself; make the choices that will make you feel good.” Sometimes all that shrink talk goes out the window.
My problem is that some days I just lack the motivation altogether. Yesterday I was feeling motivated and excited about things, but today the motivation turned into apathy, and the excitement to anxiety and worry. For example, yesterday I was pretty stoked about cleaning out my closet, but today as I continued with the task, I actually found myself worrying about it. “What if I do all this and my closet still looks messy and cluttered? What if I can’t part with the clothing that I know I really should let go of? What if I accidentally throw out too many things and end up with only clothes that make me look fat?” There you have it, a glimpse into the mind of someone who has anxiety. The thoughts got so overwhelming that I abandoned the project, telling myself my old standby comforting phrase: “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
I considered making this post private rather than public. My brain anticipates the response from readers: “If this chick’s biggest problem is cleaning out her closet, then she has a thing or two to learn about what ‘anxiety’ truly means.” My intention in sharing this anecdote about cleaning out my closet is not to show the breadth of anxiety conditions, but rather to share how anxiety can affect even the most seemingly innocuous moments in everyday life. I ultimately decided to publish this post publicly because I think I would be remiss to share with you only about my good days. If even one person finds this post and reads it and knows that there is someone out there like them, then maybe I have made one step in helping to destigmatize mental health issues (sorry if that sounds grandiose, but I couldn’t think of a better way to phrase my feelings at the moment).
My personal wish is to only have good days to share on my blog, but i know the kind of life where every day is a good one does not exist. You can do your best to make every day a good one, but ultimately some days are better than others, and that’s perfectly fine and does not make you a sicko.