Not What I Expected

***I started this post a few weeks ago, but it continues to speak to my feelings and is a good example of my anxiety, so I decided to finish it up tonight***



I have become someone that I never wanted to be.

Now, I didn't say that I've become someone I don't want to be, or that I don't like the person I have become. Simply that the person I am today is never something I wanted when I was growing up or in early adulthood.

The only career I ever wanted for my myself was to be a stay at home mom. It's still something I wish for so dearly. And I know that circumstances don't always work out that way. I know that it's frequent that the mother must work in order to help support the household. I'm aware that this is an ideal, but it's still something I've always wanted.

As I went to college and had to choose a field of study, I realized that there wasn't anything in particular that I wanted to do. I picked a major that I enjoyed, but didn't really push me in a particular direction, and the post-college job search was difficult as a result. I just wanted a job that I enjoyed and treated me well.

Now, all these years later, I've reached a really great place in my career. I somehow managed to find myself in management. It wasn't something I had planned, but my skills and interests turned out to line up with leading people. For the most part, I really love my job. And when I'm at work, I'm 100% committed to doing the best job I can and looking for promotions. When one is available, I am all over it. I am confident that I could do well and that it would be a great change and wonderful advancement in my career plan.

At home, however, it's a completely different story. No matter how confident I am at work about what I'm doing, I tend to fall into a panic trap over moving too fast or just not wanting to do the job. It's especially bad now, as I've currently been promoted. Things calm down a bit once I've gotten used to the change and I'm more confident, but any talk of career advancement turns into panic once I'm home. Every promotion reminds me that I'm not in the career that I truly want, and that somehow equates into kicking and screaming all the way to the day of the interview. As if not getting a promotion will somehow get me married off faster.

I do feel that there's a bit of truth in that, though. As I grow as a leader, as a "career woman", I feel like I'm getting more out of touch with the dating world. Rather than having more confidence in talking to guys, I just feel more awkward because I have less interaction with peers and definitely no flirting opportunities at work. Plus, the more I advance, the more independent I become. That, combined with the intimidation factor I always have to deal with, makes me feel like most guys just go running. This is especially rough because I come home from work with my head full and I just wish someone was there to let it all out to. I crave the companionship of marriage that seems to so fully elude me.

One trick I've learned in dealing with my anxiety is to think about how I feel in different situations. I remind myself of all those confident feelings I had at work. I know that generally, any panicked thoughts I have at home are the result of letting myself dwell on fantasies and what ifs, not the result of rational thought. It helps, but it still makes Sunday nights rough sometime, knowing I have to go into work the next day and not feeling fully prepared.

The good news is that I know the newness of my position is what makes this so rough. I just have to give it time to settle in and get things figured out. I have to let the rational side of my brain take hold more often to remind me that I need to look at the big picture. I am an independent woman, and that's good. I've come a long way from the timid little girl that I once was. I tackle challenges that many people would shy away from, and I have to remember that my strength is one of the most important things that I have built in my life.

I'm working on it :)

Admittance

Tonight, I googled "tricks to beat depression" for the very first time. This marks the first time that I've officially admitted to myself that I struggle with that. I've thrown the word around a bit here and there and tossed the idea around in my head that it might be real for me, but I'd always thought that maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was just a rough day. Maybe I was tired.

Depression and anxiety both run in my family, so I always knew that it could hit me. I thought for years that I had avoided it. Growing up, I've watched my mom suffer from both. So much so that it's been an unspoken goal in my life to never show any sign of weakness, as mentioned in an older post. I knew how much my mom had on her plate, especially as we all got older and some of my siblings fell away from the church and enjoyed various levels of riotous living, and as I watched my parents' marriage struggle. I focused so much on telling myself that I was the cheerful, upbeat, optimistic one that it never occurred to me that I might also be struggling.

It's been about a year since I admitted to myself that I suffer from anxiety. I would have panicked thoughts that were so intense that I more than once mistook them as warnings from the Spirit. I don't even remember what triggered the recognition, but once I understood that it was anxiety, everything was different. Everything made more sense. I could talk myself down from the panic. I was more in control of my mind. I can now tell myself, "This is just the anxiety talking. Take some deep breaths and calm down, and everything will look better".

I've used all my mind power over the years to convince myself that anxiety and depression are not weaknesses, but there's a tiny part in the back of my brain that instinctively whispers that they are. It's a knee-jerk reaction, a lie that I tell myself because I have worked so hard to be so strong. I hate admitting I need help. I feel like I've talked about this a lot, but it's very true. I expect perfection from myself. I have to tell myself everything is fine so I can project that image onto my face. In addition to needing to be the strong pillar in my family, I also feel that coming out and admitting I have these struggles would feel like I'm jumping on a bandwagon. With so many people in my family struggling right now, it would feel less sincere to say I know how they feel, especially when I really don't. I suffer from far lower levels of depression and anxiety than they do. It's like telling someone with a broken arm that your finger hurts. Each person's pain is very real, but yours seems so superficial next to theirs, and they're clearly too busy with their broken arm to nurse your finger.

So clearly the most logical step is to get it all out on a blog that my family knows nothing about. In all seriousness, though, writing is very cathartic. The other step is acceptance. Accepting myself with all my struggles is the biggest thing. And guess what? I even got a few good tips from my Google search. So I'll have to try those out and see how that goes.