I find it strange that I am back to using Open Diary. It was over 18 years (I think?) ago back when I was in junior of high school when I was using it constantly. It first started as a joke, then developed as a tool for expression and escapism from the trials of teenage years/young adulthood.
I was so young, foolish, full of dreams and dreaded the unknown.
Now I’m in my mid thirties and growing up as an adult…. or trying to become a person that I’d be happy to be. It has been full of challenges to the point I need to revert to an old method to express myself to someone or something.
So here I am back on OD in hopes to work through my anxiety, doubts, life changes and hope to feel less alone in the world.
It has been almost four years since my father passed away. It was an unexpected tragedy where he got H1N1 flu which destroyed his lungs, yet he was still alive struggling to live for over 17 days in the ICU. When he was unconscious for the last time, my family and I had to make a decision to either end the suffering or prolong it which had no guarantee he would survive the operation.
My father expressed in great detail about his wishes if he was ever put in a position where he would need to be on life support to live.
We had to make the choice which still carries in our hearts today.
My family and I are still surviving from his loss and we all handled it in different ways.
I am not going to lie, I handled the situation very poorly despite having a support group of friends, family, and a loving partner.
The bottle was my crutch and still is in many ways.
I powered through the depression in time, however, the anxiety haunts me everyday. I’ve concluded that it will never truly go away and will be there at my side like a bad friend. It whispers how I am a failure at every direction and I don’t know how to make it stop.
The bottle no longer helps….it only makes it worse.
The world that we live in now with COVID-19 is a constant reminder on what happened to my father…and to know it is hurting so many other people in the world is truly tragic.
I suppose it does put things in perspective…. I was able to be with my father during his last days which some people don’t have that option. I never would of thought that my days in the ICU with my dad regardless if he was conscious or not would be precious now. He certainly did not die alone.
Regardless, the struggle is there… life changes constantly and I’m trying to keep up.
I recently moved to a new place and working a new job, but this new place is so far away from my friends and family. I have my partner who is very kind and patient, but the anxiety is eating away at me.
I’ve worked this job for a year now and I’ve concluded that my co-workers don’t enjoy my presence…so says the anxiety in my head.
I’m grateful to have a job and to be able to work during the madness that we call life right now.
However, I feel their dislike of me. I see it in their body language and avoidance of me.
But I wonder… is it me or is it my anxiety manifesting into a uncontrollable mass that is eating away at me?
I tried the bottle again…. it dulls it a bit, and then it comes back at full force.
So here I am…avoiding the bottle and trying to expel my emotions in hopes I can calm the mind even if it is for a little bit.
Thank you for having me back Open Dairy.