high anxiety

All I needed was some sort of empathy given back to me when I reached out for the third time. I know that I have to make a decision soon and that time is of the essence. But this is my thing. I gave up control and it pains me. I also see fear. I also see trust issues.

Yeah, I don’t trust her. I don’t trust that she will do something that I like. I’m doubting her because I have no control over an event that should be meaningful to me. I gave up that control because I didn’t want to deal with the anxiety. I gave up that control because I don’t like making decisions. But now I find that I have anxiety over it because I gave up that control.

I am very worried that I’m inviting the wrong people. I’m worried that there’s too many of us. I’m worried about how we would get along. I think about what would happen if everyone shows up! I have this fear that I’ll actually won’t like what they’ve got planned. I have this fear that this event will be really cheap and gaudy and no one will have fun. I have this fear of being put into a situation where I don’t want to cooperate and I won’t want to party and drink and have strippers all over me. I just don’t want that. I want to have fun but I don’t want the spotlight on me. I don’t want it. See, that’s my anxiety talking. It’s creating the story before knowing what will really happen.

So what I did was write everyone’s name on a piece of paper. I then zen’d out for about eight minutes. Cleared my head of thoughts. I realized that this stems from fear, from not being able to control the situation, from not trusting those I entrusted my party with. She thinks that I should be part of the planning because it would make my anxiety go down. But that’s what Ego wants. I won’t change if I keep thinking in this negative way.

So I decided to not be part of it and just trust that whatever my bridesmaids are doing would be correct. It would be fun. I subtracted two people from the list to make it 11 instead of 13. I did this because it turns out I didn’t want certain people to go after all.

My process was (after zening out), hold each paper with their name in my hand. Ask if I wanted them to come with me. If my immediate response was a “no” I put them in one pile. If it was a “yes” I put them in another pile. There were three “no” and the rest were yes. I already told one person they would be invited, so it left me with two. And those two were out.

There are times when I wish I hadn’t agreed to a wedding. There’s too much work involved. I don’t like being the center of attention. I don’t like making big decisions. I’d rather just take the money and go on a nice vacation.

But, I know if I had said no to a wedding I would be missing out on something that could be quite wonderful. I wouldn’t do this again. Ever. It’s too hard. My feelings were hurt too much. I hate the process. I hate what it’s making me do.

But maybe this is the Universe saying that I can handle it and that it’s not so bad after all. The outcome won’t be terrible. The outcome will be something that I will cherish the rest of my life.

I keep saying that I regret ever doing this. But my fiance keeps saying that everything will be fine. That we are on track. That I’m more than alright. Some days I feel fine and other days I just want to shut myself in a hole and pretend that I never agreed to a wedding.

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It’s been a roller coaster of emotions. One minuet I’m happy and the next I’m depressed. I keep having anxiety of what will occur on our wedding day. It’s not something I’m proud of but I keep thinking about those deep and dark spaces between the light within me.

I want to be free of those moments.

A lot of the things I remember are the bad things that happened to me while I was growing up. Maybe I do see the glass half empty most of the time and I only pretend to see things half full.

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I had this dream at the beginning of the year where I saw my dad at a funeral. We were all in black and white, and it felt like a funeral.

I wonder if that dream mean’t that I would finally break free from what my father has been saying to me all of these years. I wonder if it means that the way he views me and how I think about him will change. I wonder….


All I know is I resent my dad and everything he stands for. All he does is play mind games with me and he contradicts himself most of the time. He’s not a good father and anything I’ve ever said to him to back him up? He’ll never know and he’ll still continue to blame me for everything regardless.

I have to stop caring what my parents think of me.

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Daily Prompt: Insist

As I look at my dad, I tell him that I want both him and my mom to walk me down the aisle. He gets tense and tells me he doesn’t think it’s a good idea.

“I don’t know if you know this, but I really don’t want to share that moment with your mom. She doesn’t deserve to walk you down the aisle with me. This is my moment and I’ve been waiting for it for 30 years and I don’t want to share it. Honestly, this upsets me so much that I don’t want to do anything for your wedding. Honestly I want to show up and do nothing. I know this is your wedding, and I don’t want to seem selfish, but I don’t get to do a lot of things for you and this is something I have waited for for 30 years.”

Okay then. I told him I was sorry because I honestly didn’t feel like it was going to hurt him this much. Okay, I assumed that he would be fine.

“If you had asked me, ‘Well, I was thinking about having mom walk down with us, what do you think?’ I would have been more open to the idea. But honestly, fuck it! You do whatever you want! You’re forcing me to say things that I don’t want to say.”

“Okay,” I said, “Thank you for sharing these thoughts with me, it’s important to know. I’m sorry that I assumed you would be fine with it. Let me think about this. Did you want to do a speech?”

“I was going to do a speech whether you wanted me to or not. That wasn’t an option for you.”

So my fiance chimed in, “So Jen assumed that you would be okay with the both of you walking down the aisle, and now you’re assuming that you would do a speech no matter what?”

“You dragged me into this and. And. I want to go out for a smoke, what you said has nothing to do with how I feel.” My dad went outside and my fiance followed him. Which might have been a mistake.

So anyways, my dad went on to tell us how my brother is stupid for not following the rules while growing up and how my dad took out his frustrations out on him. How my brother moving out and how me and my mom helped him move out was unforgivable. He started talking about how he needs to be the “bad guy” and how it’s necessary to make your kids do well in life and if they don’t do well that they are just stupid. He told us that you can’t tell your family that their actions hurt. That you should be able to tell a stranger that what they did hurt you but you can’t tell your family that because they aren’t dumb.


This is what I used to live with. This is what bubbles up every now and again about the choices I make in my life. My dad (and my mom does this too) insists that it’s my life but they also insist that I do things the way they want it.

I don’t hate my dad. I just resent him. He had the fucking balls to tell me that he always talked to me first before hitting me or before verbally telling me that I was an idiot or fat or that I would never amount to anything in my life. That’s not the truth. He tells me that he can’t trust anyone in the family because we all lie. He is the biggest liar I know and he always tries to make himself look good.

I mean, I understand he’s done things for me. But I do recognize that I’m not a fan of his. I’ve been telling him for years that he needs to get a physical and stop smoking and get blood work done. But he’s always said that, “Skinny people don’t get sick. It’s only fat people that have problems.” He’s been telling me that for the past 20 years. So when he does get sick I doubt I’d be in tears about it because he never thought to take care of himself to begin with!

If reincarnation is real, I hope I don’t have him as my dad or my mom. I hope he’s just like an aunt or an uncle or a dog that throws tantrums. He makes life so much harder than it is. Especially if you don’t agree with him.

Circling back to the “I’ll never forgive” part. Well, there’s something that I haven’t quite forgiven him with. At my very first swim meet I asked my parents if they wanted to attend. I was nervous and excited because I’d  never done this before!

After my meet was over, and I lost all my heats, my dad told me that I should have done this, I should have done that, I needed to look at how the other swimmers were swimming and see what they were doing to go faster, turn faster. I didn’t do a good job at all. Then, after his lecture he said, “But good job.” And I remember sitting there, clear as day, thinking, ‘This was my first time doing this. I had so much fun. I love doing this sport. Why can’t my dad recognize how much fun I had?’

See, when I needed my dad to be a dad, he never showed up. When I needed encouragement, he never showed up. When I needed a push he thought degrading us was the push we needed to go higher. I remember in 8th grade I got all “C’s” on my report card and he told me I was dumbest person on Earth. He told me that I couldn’t get all “A’s” by the end of the year and that I was stupid. Plus I was fat and out of shape. By the end of the year I got all “A’s” and all he said was, “I knew you could do it all along.”

After that I stopped caring about what he thought because he was playing mind games with me even when I was in 8th grade!

I may love my dad, but I don’t respect him. I don’t respect his thoughts or his methods or how he treats the rest of the family. I still try though. When I try to tell him a story he still interrupts me and talks about something completely different from what I’m talking about. When I do finish the story he gets confused because he wasn’t paying attention so I have to repeat things and explain things twice, three times.

My dad needs help, he needs to see a specialist. But he says that we are the ones who need to see a psychiatrist because there’s something wrong with us.

I honestly can’t wait until this wedding is over.

Sorry, this is more like a rant than anything else. But it needed to come out.

via Daily Prompt: Insist

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I have this co-worker who, I would say 90% of the time can’t take anything I give her graciously. Almost every time I give her something she tells me what she doesn’t like about it. Yesterday it happened again when I gave her some mochi. She told me she doesn’t like the anko I put inside. I knew it was coming too as soon as she opened her mouth.

But here’s the thing, something about that transaction bothered me inside. It wasn’t till I was about to fall asleep that I realized I had some sort of anxiety/shame over it.

Maybe I feel ashamed that I didn’t have the courage to say anything to her. I made those mochi. I spent half my New Years Eve making it. I felt anxiety because I have to deal with this the next time I get her something. I am anticipating it. I shouldn’t have let my anxiety hook onto a thought and run away with it. But it happened last night and caused me to not sleep well.

I guess I’m tired of feeling that nothing I do is good enough for her. Why do I have to feel accepted by her?

Is this me overthinking the situation?

Maybe I’m bringing it up to just cause drama. Or maybe I’m bringing it to my attention because I’ve never met anyone like her.

I know I should say something, but I just don’t. I’m afraid though, that this is spilling over-I’ve reached my tolerance limit and will lash out. I’m trying to not do that.

So the only option is to stop and breathe when this happens again. Which might be by the end of this month…

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Daily Prompt: Faint

There’s this small area inside of my mind that remembers how good our friendship was. Free of pain or sorrow. Pure joy. It seemed like we would be friends forever and nothing could take that away.

You were my first real love. And then the darkness crept in and started eating at everything that made me happy. All of the judgement I bestowed upon how you were living your life. All the trust that I broke between us. I knew that I didn’t want to be in a relationship with you anymore. I couldn’t make this work anymore. I didn’t want to be friends anymore. Slowly I started pushing away. I started hating hanging out and hearing your voice on the phone. I felt horrible around you with the judgement’s you made about me and my life.

Now cut back to almost three years later and the events that have transpired in my life has left me feeling lonely. I want that connection again with someone. To find my other half. I have grown. I have stretched myself and changed. And so have you.

But that line that connects us grows fainter by the year. It started to unravel. To decay. I think there’s nothing much left but a string of hope…

via Daily Prompt: Faint

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I’m engaged. Holy shit I’m engaged.

I feel overwhelmed. I feel cornered. I feel like crying. There’s already family drama about this. There’s already a bombardment of questions. There’s just so much going on out there that I am shutting down. I don’t want to do any of this work ahead of me. I feel alone. I am feeling like there’s this huge weight on my shoulders. I feel like I shouldn’t be engaged, like I’m making the wrong choice.

…And I know that these thoughts are just anxiety thoughts. I am committing to one person for the rest of my life. Someone who isn’t 100% perfect for me. But I’m engaged to someone who genuinely cares for me.  Who will clean the whole house. Will ask if I am doing alright even though he’s not doing so well because of work stress. I am committing to someone whom I am very best friends with. Someone who loves me entirely. Who hugs me when I’m sad. I’m with someone who will make things happen for me.

But this whole engagement thing is overwhelming. I’m shutting down because of the conflict it’s brought up.

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