I’m not depressed.
I know that depression and anxiety usually are like twins, but I don’t feel that way.
I feel anxious. A lot.
I don’t feel sad. Or alone. Or depressed.
I mean, I have off days. I get thrown out of whack at times. But I get up and do something. It’s just normal feelings.
I love how I live now. I have spent so much time in another life that having this one suddenly flung into my lap after years of longing and dreaming about it seems surreal.
And that, partially, is where much of the anxiety comes from.
What if it gets taken away again?
It doesn’t change the fact that I simply want to control it. I want to have a grasp on it all and be able to keep it like it is. If everyone would just do exactly what Diana said or wanted:
Life would be perfect forever.
See where I’m going here? Unrealistic. But that’s what it is. It’s not that I’m terribly sad over my life. I’m excited each day to wake up and be here, to know that I get to work from home, to see my daughter grow up, to spend my nights curled up by a fire and a husband who will watch (and like) Glee with me. To have supportive family and friends.
I am so blessed.
I am so anxious.
Because I would do anything for it to stay this way, to never go back to what it was. To how I felt.
There isn’t one thing I can do except control me. And that doesn’t even work.