Ever listen to that little voice in your head weighing you down with anxiety about. Every. Other. Little detail? Well it's my biggest regret of this shitty year that I basically let it take over me and rob me of my summer.
It started with "Wow that's just embarrassing." "Why can't you improve?" "Your art is fucking regressing." "Dude, you're not cut out for this." "You're basically just producing efficiently compact garbage."
After it slowed me down artistically it followed into the rest of my daily life. "Did you seriously just fail at doing that basic ass shit?" "Kill yourself!" "Human trash you've done this before." "Why do you insist on being such a fuck up?" "What is wrong with you?" "Shaaame."
Whenever my head was filled with that voice it always had a mirthful quality to it's jeering and delighted spite. It whispered disdain into my ear and I let it slowly cripple me. The negativity was so overwhelming that I conjured up a being for it. I guess my dumb ass thought that being able to "see it" might somehow help me block it out better. So I went ahead and imagined a small, ashen Sprite clothed in a dress of dark mists, trails of black, intermingling smoke formed it's long hair, and an unseelie smile split it's pointy face like a saw-tooth zipper.
At first it just teased me about this little insignificant thing or other but whenever that Delighted Anxiety plagued me, I imagined it swim around in its dark waves and choke me in smog, like anxiety can. Then my hand would fly out and crush it. Except that smoke seeps easily between even the tightest fist. All that was in my hand was cinders that, too, eventually evaporated. The smoke condensed into a cloud and the Sprite was made anew. It wagged a finger at me and tutted.
I learned something important. Anxiety can't just be crushed and waved away. It's like a heavy smoke cloud trained to orbit and rain over you. You can't really hurt it. It just escapes through the cracks. It makes you crumble and chip and deteriorate. Mine loved to see me break a little more every day.
A couple months ago I had a bad falling out with my dad and in the end I just hated myself for being such an effeminate pushover. He deserved a better son.
That voice agreed. Of its own. The most unnerving part? It sounded completely sincere and lacked spite. So pragmatically in concordance. Uninterested in scorning me further like it was supposed to do. Then I had a crazy thought. Is that voice really my own self-doubt? Or is it it's own manifestation? How soft is my mind really?
It frightened me badly. The Sprite only noticed that I was easier to pick on. But honestly it was my own fault for giving it the time of day and offering it my insecurities to scrutinize. So that little voice in the back of my head got bigger. And bolder. Fuck did it get bolder. It wasn't discouraging me from my passions so much as disparaging me about them. I would never be good enough, it almost convinced me to stop trying and just stick to instant gratification by looking at more promising art, things I wouldn't amount to it said.
So here I am almost five fucking months later finally standing up for myself. I'm going to go on a posting spree and divulge every scrappy design I've hoarded. I need to do this soon before it shuts me down again.
Whatever it is I refuse to let it control me. I guess I've finally snapped and fight took over for once. By sharing this I'll definitely not back out.
Guys. Anxiety is a hard motherfucker to battle. It makes you hesitate and question yourself to varying extents; some to the point of being socially handicapped for seemingly no reason. I know others who have it much worse than me but every battle isn't hopeless.
I won't say I have any cure or secret to it because, obviously, I don't and it's different for everyone. But sometimes you have to step out of your comfort zone to escape a toxic waste of thought space like anxiety. I wanted to faint and find it's all just been a bad dream or die once and for all. That's the anxiety catching up fast, wanting to mistreat it's errant toy. I Take some more steps, more strides, fucking run if I can. I'd do almost anything within reason to know freedom.
And Here I go.