I waste so much time just trying to feel normal and not shitty that I never get around to writing anything.
Well, more accurately, I never get around to publishing anything. I write loads. I’ve got close over 100 drafts saved in Medium; each a little or a lot of myself that I started bleeding out onto the proverbial page, before deciding that the pain was too much to bear and stitching up my wound.
In the past when I’ve been long on time and short on things to do, I’d fall back on an ever-present clutch to fill the hours — social media. But I’m distancing myself from it now. I need to find something more beneficial and enjoyable, even if it also hurts. Writing is my new time-waster that isn’t a waste of time.
Through is the only way to deal with my anxiety struggles, so write through them I must. Just trying to feel normal, or treading water, only leaves me feeling sorry for myself and tired of being stagnant. After two years of barely staying afloat I’ve found it to be counterproductive, and a waste of time and energy. I’m ready to swim forward.
So I plan to write more, starting with all those unpublished posts in my drafts. Maybe new stuff, too. I swear I jot down notes every day. So I’ve got no excuse not to publish weekly, at the very least. And I’ve got every reason to publish more than that.
Beating anxiety means not being afraid and facing your fears head on, because the only way is forward. So I’m ready to unstitch those wounds again and spill a bit more of my blood onto the digital pages of Medium. Despite the pain, I know it will help me heal in the long run.