Always look on the bright side of life
I need to remind myself that anxiety is a symptom of the medication I'm on, and not necessarily a symptom of what is going on in my life. I'm so very blessed in every aspect of my life, things are really, really good for me.
How does one explain that one finds it easy to look on the bright side of bad situations, but gets nervous when things are going well?
I'm having a hard time completely giving in to the happy. I think part of me is worried that if I let myself feel it too much, for too long, that I'll become accustomed to it, and at that very instant it will be savagely ripped away from me in a manner that I might never be able to recover from.
I have always held a firm belief that no matter what awful situation I might find myself in, I will be okay. I have an immense amount of faith in my own ability to emerge intact from any amount of strife. I have stories that might break your heart a little, but they didn't break me, and therein lays my strength.
This strength doesn’t translate to being able to handle it when things are good though. When life is giving me lemons, I have no problem making lemonade, but when life decides to bless me with an abundance of perfectly ripened nectarines I can’t help but fear that there are too many of them, and that some of them are going to spoil, leaving a sopping, rotting, moldy mess on top of the refrigerator that is my life.
That reminds me, I actually bought nectarines the other week, but I don’t think I ate them. They’re probably rotting on top of my boyfriend’s fridge (sorry) as I type, but that’s not really related.
I guess sometimes one just has to recognize that yes, sometimes perfectly ripened fruit does spoil on top of the fridge, but other times I eat it, leaning over the sink in the kitchen, slurping and sucking, and moaning ever so softly as the juice runs down my arms and drips off of my elbows. I don’t really have a tidy way to work that into my little analogy, but it conjures an image and a feeling that makes my mouth water, while simultaneously making other parts of me tingle, just a little, so I don’t so much care.
I’ve written quite a few posts lately that I haven’t actually managed to post, because I get to a certain point and find myself unable, for whatever reason, to come to a conclusion. I’m going to break that habit by posting this, as it is. Perhaps tomorrow, or the next day, I’ll post a part 2, but probably not.
How does one explain that one finds it easy to look on the bright side of bad situations, but gets nervous when things are going well?
I'm having a hard time completely giving in to the happy. I think part of me is worried that if I let myself feel it too much, for too long, that I'll become accustomed to it, and at that very instant it will be savagely ripped away from me in a manner that I might never be able to recover from.
I have always held a firm belief that no matter what awful situation I might find myself in, I will be okay. I have an immense amount of faith in my own ability to emerge intact from any amount of strife. I have stories that might break your heart a little, but they didn't break me, and therein lays my strength.
This strength doesn’t translate to being able to handle it when things are good though. When life is giving me lemons, I have no problem making lemonade, but when life decides to bless me with an abundance of perfectly ripened nectarines I can’t help but fear that there are too many of them, and that some of them are going to spoil, leaving a sopping, rotting, moldy mess on top of the refrigerator that is my life.
That reminds me, I actually bought nectarines the other week, but I don’t think I ate them. They’re probably rotting on top of my boyfriend’s fridge (sorry) as I type, but that’s not really related.
I guess sometimes one just has to recognize that yes, sometimes perfectly ripened fruit does spoil on top of the fridge, but other times I eat it, leaning over the sink in the kitchen, slurping and sucking, and moaning ever so softly as the juice runs down my arms and drips off of my elbows. I don’t really have a tidy way to work that into my little analogy, but it conjures an image and a feeling that makes my mouth water, while simultaneously making other parts of me tingle, just a little, so I don’t so much care.
I’ve written quite a few posts lately that I haven’t actually managed to post, because I get to a certain point and find myself unable, for whatever reason, to come to a conclusion. I’m going to break that habit by posting this, as it is. Perhaps tomorrow, or the next day, I’ll post a part 2, but probably not.