Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 36

Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 36

This entry is part 29 of 32 in the series Just Write Something Damnit!

Author’s Note: If you have not read the first post in this series then all the rest will make no sense at all. Please click here to take a quick look at Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 1

Remington Standard Typewriter on desk with blank page

Dead Inside

There have been times in my life that I have considered myself to be dead inside. I have been to funerals of loved ones that elicited the same emotional reaction as classes I attended in college—it wasn’t bad or good…just was.

There have also been times when the slightest emotional stimulus ripped me open wide. I could be watching a tender moment in a sitcom and suddenly find my face soaked with tears.

Results of my Mania?

I assume these two opposites to be results of my mania. The strange thing is that when I look back at these examples, and my state of mind at the time, I recall being happy overall in both instances. When I look back at times that my emotional reactions were ‘appropriate’ those moments all seem to be framed in times of great sadness. Does that mean that my emotional baseline—the conditions under which I react the most socially ‘appropriate’—is sadness? That’s a sad thought.

Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 36

Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 18

Author’s Note: If you have not read the first post in this series then all the rest will make no sense at all. Please click here to take a quick look at Just Write Something Damnit! — Day 1

Remington Standard Typewriter on desk with blank page

Social Anxiety

My social anxiety is at its most vicious when it is working to build my assumptions of what others think of me. It sees an event on the horizon and immediately takes stock of all the people that might be in attendance. Then it methodically mines the recesses of my memories for any little instance that could be used against me. It could be a text from my brother last week that seemed short or a conversation with my sister from five years ago that did not go the way I wanted it to. Whatever it finds gets blown up and connected in some twisted way, then woven together into a film played on a loop until the day of the event.

 

Don’t Speak

I don’t speak about it to the people I should (or anyone, for that matter) because I am not entirely sure I read the situation correctly, to begin with. Social anxiety twists both the moment and the memory of the moment. If I speak about it and have it wrong the situation only worsens.

It is a terrible place to dwell — inside the dark of one’s mind — with no guide and a malevolent force lurking in the shadows.

 

Faith To Overcome

My faith has made me stronger over the last few years. The darkness isn’t quite as dark. The time I’m in it isn’t quite as long. Still, every once in a while, the anxiety weaves its web and ensnares me.

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