Decisions, Decisions, Decisions!

I have always been rather painfully indecisive. People used to joke and say it was because I'm a Libra - and maybe it is - though I never put much stock in astrology. I've also been told it's part of anxiety - the fear of making the wrong choice tends to leave one unable to make any choice. That sounds a bit more like something I can relate to!

Obviously, this does not mean I cannot make any decisions ever, that would be more than a bit absurd. I do make decisions on a daily basis, though they are rarely ever life impacting decisions. Those are the ones I stumble with - the decisions that when made will change something about my life.

My usual method of coming to such a decision is lists - lots and lots of lists. Pros, cons, maybes, what ifs, everything gets written down and analyzed beyond all normal thinking. I ask for advice from those I trust. I over think, to the point of exhaustion and annoyance. In the end, even with all the lists and thinking until I want to scream and the helpful or not so helpful advice of others - I still can't decide what I should do.

THIS DRIVES ME CRAZY. I want few things more than I want to be a person who just goes for it (whatever it may be), a person who just makes those snap decisions and takes a leap of faith that it will all work out the way it is supposed to. Mostly, I want to be able to trust that I am capable of making a good decision, the right decision for myself. Wouldn't that be nice!?!

I've got some decisions to make, and I can already tell my over-thinking brain is kicking into gear. Maybe this time - I'll take that leap of faith, go with my gut and be done with it.

That's a decision I'll have to make when the time comes. :)

The Nightmare of Nightmares

Nightmares. Apparently, everyone has had a nightmare at some point. They're pretty common, I'm sure. However, when you combine a nightmare with an anxiety disorder, it's a whole other story.

I seem to have nightmares all the time. Some are worse than others. I've had the nightmare that rips you from your sleep, covered in sweat and feeling like your heart is about to leap right out of your body. Not fun. I've also had the nightmare that you wake slowly from and can almost feel yourself pulling away, which adds a whole new level of eery discomfort to the experience. Not fun.

It's hard to imagine anything worse than those two options, but for me, there is. Of course there would be. I don't know if it's the anxiety disorder or I just have a very odd brain, but I do have a third even worse kind of nightmare. It's the nightmare within a dream. It's bizarre. This nightmare begins like any other does, normally it's pitch black and no lights seem to work, I panic and so on...normal nightmarish stuff, and then I wake up. Well, that's not so weird, you might be saying, but wait, there's more. After waking up from this particular dream of not such fun stuff, I actually realize I'm still really sleeping. And I yell at myself to wake up, and I mean yell, screaming at the top of my dream lungs to make my real self wake up...eventually I do. It is the most unsettling, awful feeling.

I'm not sure if anyone else ever has those - no one I've specifically asked ever has. I don't know why I have them. I wish I didn't.

As you might guess by the timing of this post - it's currently 3:32 am - I had a nightmare tonight. Lucky for me it was a #2 type dream. Not as bad as the others, but still NOT FUN. Sigh.

(Not exactly the post I had planned for my return to blogging, but then things don't always go to plan, sometimes life and nightmares just happen.)

Compliments, Whining and a Resolution!

It was recently brought to my attention that I seem to find difficulty in taking compliments. It's true, I do, I always have. Well, maybe not always. It is yet another effect that the anxiety disorder has heaved upon me. One that I've begun to find very irritating.

I mean really, what is so hard about just saying "Thank you" and going on my merry way? Nothing, I tell you! Nothing at all! It's not difficult, I just make it that way.

Inside my head I hear all the wonderful comments and truly sincere sentiments being sent my way and inexplicably determine myself to be unworthy of such praise. Why? Who the heck knows, I certainly don't.

That may not be entirely true...I do know a bit about the why. What for some may be a joyous thing, having someone tell them of their glory, is for others a glaring reminder of broken self-esteem.

To not be able to see in oneself what others seem so easily to find is utterly frustrating. And really rather stupid, if you think about it, which I have been.

Therefore, I have decided it's time to do something about this irritating character flaw. And what a perfect time of year to begin this quest for self-approval!

I've never really been a person who makes a New Year's resolution, as I never found it necessary to add something else that would go undone to my list of things to do. However, as this seems more 'doable' than promising not to buy things I don't really need, I'm optimistic that I will stick to it.

So after reading this, if you are one of those lovely people who says something complimentary to me and I begin to whine about not being worthy, just tell me to shut up!!

The Perplexing Nature of Retail Therapy

With yesterday's arrival of my shiny new netbook also came a noticeable elevation in my spirits. After my happy high following the writing of my short story came a sudden sinking into an odd type of sadness. I call it an odd type of sadness because it's really not sadness at all, but it's rather difficult for me to accurately explain and sadness seems the closest logical description. I suppose numbness would be a better fit, for really during these dark times I don't feel much of anything at all.

Anyway, I won't go into all the sad and whiny talk about that. However, a thought occurred to me as I gleefully unwrapped my new toy: Is this really all it takes to make me happy?? Is this why I have so much stuff, because I simply purchase my way to happiness?

It's true, I do tend to shop more when I'm feeling down, and sometimes it does make me feel better, but not always. No, sometimes the retail therapy binges cause me to feel even worse, especially when I actually take a peek at the bank account to see exactly how much I've spent. So, I had to ask myself, why the heck do I do this??

I really don't have the answer. I suppose I do it because even if it's fleeting, that small happiness that comes with getting a shiny new toy or article of clothing (not shiny), or a lovely pair of shoes (possibly shiny) is something I want. It's just so easy to point and click and have a magical brown package arrive at your doorstep three to five days later. And yes, it makes me feel good.

I do, however, take heart in the fact that shopping is not my only source of happiness found. There are plenty of other things in my life that produce happiness for me. The usual things, family, friends,and the fact that I have a job I like and that supports my sad shopping habit are all things I am blessed with and very happy to have.

But when I'm in a down cycle I generally like to be alone, and when I'm alone I like to go online, and invariably when I'm online I like to peruse online shops.

Mind you, I do not always purchase something. Luckily, the anxiety disorder takes over before any large purchases. At which time I will then spend three to four days immersed in research of the object of my desire until I know exactly which one is the best to get. Sometimes during this time the impulse to buy whatever it is goes away. Sometimes, research is joined with rationalizations about why I need a particular item.

Case in point, the nifty little netbook I am now using to write this blog post. Did I necessarily need a netbook? No. Did I think I needed a netbook? Not really. Did I come up with fantastical reasons why I did actually need a netbook? Why, yes, in fact I did. Do I now adore the little netbook and never want to be parted from it? I truly hope I'm not that much of a nutter, but I do really like it. :)

Perhaps I just lack sufficient self-control, which would go with all of the other self lacking issues I seem to have. That's a story for another day.

Today, I'm a happy girl. And right now that's enough for me, even if that happiness came courtesy of a package delivered by the UPS guy.

The Curse of an Anxious Mind

I've been receiving loads of encouragement from my Twitter pals regarding my novel adventure, as well as this here blog. As I was reading through these uplifting tweets, the thought occurred to me that these lovely people think more highly of me and my abilities than I do. After that rather depressing realization, I started trying to deduce when this descent into the depths of low self-esteem began. Surely, I haven't always been this way. Surely, it hasn't always taken the kind words of others to make me think I can accomplish something. Right? Thankfully, the answer is no; it hasn't always been this way.

If I'm being honest, and really what's the point of not being honest, I do have an idea of when the slide into self-deprecation got underway. A few years ago, well not really a few anymore, about six now, I went through a rough spot. Nothing catastrophic, no one died, nothing really bad happened at all. I just started questioning myself, second guessing my choices, actions and motives. I never felt as though I was doing the right thing, making the best choices, making those choices for the right reasons. And it scared me, terrified me really, that I was ruining my life because everything I did just seemed wrong. It was maddening and it soon started to affect me physically.

The physical manifestations of my contemplative self-torture turned out to be a blessing in disguise. After several doctor visits for skull splitting headaches, insomnia and this nervous feeling that would not go away, I was informed that I, in fact, suffered from an anxiety disorder. Hurrah! This madness had a name and a treatment! Wait, not so fast. Several treatments, actually, and none with a guarantee. I'd have to try several, and I mean several, before one actually worked.

In the end, I did find one that worked. The combination of a magic pill and talking about those things that scare the crap out of me. I no longer second guess all my choices, although it takes me an immense amount of time and thought before making a big one. I no longer constantly worry that everything I do today will negatively affect me tomorrow. I do, however, still not see myself as that person who can do anything I set my mind to, and I do still worry about what others will think of the things I do.

Apparently, the path up out of the pit of self-condemnation is a bit longer than the one going down.