How to cope with anxiety

I have had heaps of anxiety today. It has been one of those days that I have felt like I'm losing the battle. It's weird because I have been on top of things lately. I have been coping with my anxiety, pushing it aside, accepting it. Or have I?

Coping with anxiety? Today it didn't feel like it until I wrote about it.

I'm anxious about not being on the computer enough, not blogging enough, not commenting enough, not working the social networks enough.

I'm anxious that I'm not getting comments on my blog. Am I boring? Too confronting? Not worth reading? Too whingy? Unapproachable? Unremarkable? Unnoticeable in a Web full of amazing voices where I am too small to be heard?

I'm anxious about being on the computer too much, about not playing with Noo enough, not keeping the house tidy enough, not doing enough chores to pull my weight to help my sister.

I'm anxious about eating too much, about Noo not eating enough, about there being too much junk in the house, about really needing to get back on the diet bandwagon that I jumped off six months ago.

I'm anxious about money, about not having enough, about spending too much, about how I am going to get through to the next pay without borrowing more money, again.

I'm anxious about writing, about sharing mine and Noo's stories, about getting my stats up, about this new constant need to write it all down, to photograph life as it happens, about not missing a beat.

In my mind I am writing, writing, writing the start of a post, the middle, the end. A line pops in my head and I think: it is awesome, write it down, don't forget it, share it. Then it is gone because I'm cooking dinner or hanging out the washing or pretending I'm a train choo chooing around the deck chasing Noo.

I'm anxious about who is reading my blog and who is not. I'm anxious because my mum has started asking Yolanda about my blog, whether it is good or not, what I write about and does she think it would be ok if she read it. I don't think I'm ready for my mum to enter this space. Not yet.

I'm anxious that if my mum read my blog she will tell my dad about everything I've written because she tells my dad everything. I'm anxious that they will try to stop me from writing any more or even get me to pull down what I've already written.

I'm anxious because my dad denies any existence of my son's father. He is an atheist but wants to believe that Noo is the result of an immaculate conception. He cannot bear the reality of Noo's origins. We are not allowed to talk about him or even say his name around my dad.

And so I get back to the Dad Question. Part 1 and Part 2 are now my most popular posts next to my benzo addiction story. I know there are some readers looking forward to the next instalment. I am glad of the interest and I will write the story. I've just got to get back into the right headspace to do it.


It all really comes down to one question: Why do I blog if it causes me so much anxiety? But does it? Because actually, now, after typing this out, I feel better.

I recently read a post by Bianca at Bigwords about why she blogs. I loved this post. There are so many reasons why bloggers blog. But I relate to this: "because without it I would feel alone".

Ultimately I blog for me. I blog for release, for comfort, for support, for enjoyment, for therapy. I blog because I have to. The words are there going around and around in my head. Better that I chuck them on here where they won't be alone. Where I won't be alone. And when I'm not alone I feel less anxious.

So that is how I cope with anxiety: By blogging about it.

V.