Not Always

I wasn't always like this.

I didn't think of myself as vulnerable, sensitive or introverted. The word 'trigger' meant something that was on a gun and therapy was something crazy people did in the movies. I wasn't susceptible to being hurt or dependent on others to feel self awareness.

I didn't wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, or just because. I didn't eat candy for breakfast and nothing for dinner. I didn't watch the television on low volume, or read in soft light, or avoid perfumes and scented candles. I didn't feel so tired after running errands. I didn't yell at strangers from the safety of my car or drive with my knuckles white on the wheel. 

I didn't hope for bad weather so I could have an excuse to stay in. I didn't have to force myself to be around people, to smile and laugh. I didn't feel lonely when I was surrounded by friends. I didn't think I was being judged or laughed at when my back was turned.

I didn't stumble over my words or ask the same questions over and over because I forgot what the answers were. I didn't reread sentences in books to avoid losing the plot. I didn't hold back my opinions from fear of being judged. I didn't wince when voices got loud.

I didn't monitor what I watched on television, or read or talked about. I didn't drink decaf. I didn't avoid mirrors. I didn't frown so much. Or cry. 

I wasn't always like this.  But this is what anxiety does. This is what happens when depression grasps it's hand and leads it into a twisted emotional dance.

Every day I wake up and tell myself I'm going to be ok. I tell myself that the clouds inside will break and hope will flood back in.

It won't always be like this, that's what they say. You're going through something, that's all. You have to go through it to get out of it. It takes time, they say. And I nod. I use the tools I've been given. I say that I understand. And I try to remember, I wasn't always like this.

The Anxiety/Depression Monster

I guess it was around midnight when I realized sleep wasn't going to happen. I was yawning and my eyes were bleary but my mind was in full gear.

I gave up the coziness of my bed and came downstairs, intending to write all the thoughts in my head onto the screen, hoping to get them out somehow.

I opened up The Spreadsheet. I have 10+ tabs on this bad boy and they are all about the wedding and what it entails. I'm on a strict budget and every time I have to add something to the list, I want to cry. Every time I have to take something away, I want to cry. I don't want to think about how much everything costs. I want to be one of those people that doesn't have to worry about finances and can do everything they've ever wanted.

I was not the little girl that dreamed of her big wedding. I never even thought I'd fall in love. But now that I'm lucky enough to have both, I want it all. I mean, not EVERYTHING. I don't want a horse drawn carriage or black tie dinner or a string quartet playing in the corner. I just want to have decorations that represent My Fella and me. I want our guests to have food options and drinks to drink and music to dance to when the drinks have kicked in. I want to have a dress that makes me feel pretty and friends surrounding me that will help me feel calm.

I'm not doing the party favors-I don't think anyone really wants those. I'm not doing the bouquet toss, or the garter belt fling-both traditions are ridiculous and ridiculing.  We're not doing the 'exit walk' except to get out of the ballroom and into the bar. We're not doing the first dance, the daddy/daughter dance or the mother/son dance. We're not having 60 million photos taken in uncomfortable and unnatural poses.

We're doing it our way.

I need to find a dress. Soon. I'm getting married in less than 5 months and 'they' say that you should have 4-6 months of time to order your dress, make any alterations and to I don't know, have in your closet until your wedding day?  And then what do I do with the dress after the big day? Put it back in the closet? I'm not planning on children to pass it down to. I don't think I'll have the heart to cut it up or use it as a Carrie costume. So...donate? Probably. But it will have to sit in my trunk for the mandatory 3 months first.

Ugh! I don't want to shop for the dress. I was really struggling earlier today with....well...feelings. I imagine not being able to find one that fits. Or finding one that fits and it's too expensive. Or not finding one in my size. Or finding one in my size but having to go up like 3 sizes because evidently wedding gowns are sized small. Who does that? EVERY bride I've talked to has told me this and it makes no sense. If anything they should size them big so that women can feel super good about themselves squeezing into a 12 if they're normally a 20. I'm afraid I won't find one that I feel pretty in and I desperately want to feel pretty on my wedding day.

I KNOW that My Fella loves me just as I am. I KNOW that my friends and family do too. I KNOW that it's widely believed that there is no such thing as an ugly bride. I KNOW this but my anxiety/depression monster doesn't and it really wants to win the conversation.

My arms. It's my arms that bother me the most. I confessed this to My Fella and he got me some free weights and taught me how to do stair push ups. I love him for this. I also hate that it doesn't feel that it will ever be enough. I used to refer to my arms as manatees. It made others giggle and it made me feel I was jumping the gun on any insult someone might think (or say). I stopped doing that a while ago and switched it to saying that 'my arms bother me the most'. Means the same, isn't as funny.

Not liking how you look isn't funny. It's sad. And I KNOW that too. When I feel this way I try to think of positive things. If I can find one, I can scream it back at that cruel taunt of, 'You'll never be good enough' or 'You're ugly'. It's SO fucking hard to hear positive things when that voice is screaming at you. If I hear them at all, it's a miracle. I usually have to coax them out of a whisper. I have to help them build into a shout that matches and eventually overpowers the loud mean anxiety/depression monster. I haven't been able to do that in a very, very long time.

Someone asked me the last time I felt pretty. I don't know. I have moments, little ones where I'll catch myself in a reflection and think, 'oh ok, you're pretty cute'. It doesn't last long. Usually a picture is taken and when  I see the image I instantly feel that shred of self love disappear. I have shirts I will never wear again that I thought looked good until I saw myself in a picture.

Writing about this makes me anxious. It makes me think that the person reading it-you-will think I need to be reassured about my looks. Or that you might think that you need to tell me that everything will be fine and that the wedding will be perfect and everyone loves me and I'm going to look beautiful.

And you might be right. I'll let myself believe you might be. But until I know it myself, I'm going to have trouble hearing you above that screaming monster.