Suspense

Suspense. I’ve never been fond of it. Gore and blood and guts are fine but put on a psychological thriller and you’ll have me running for the exit before I’ve started the popcorn (well in my case sweets because I hate popcorn but it didn’t roll off the tongue quite the same). Results days; once again a place filled with fear, even panic. I became someone who wouldn’t try because it’s easier to wait in suspense knowing your results are luck based rather than trying and failing.

I guess this is at least part of the place my anxiety began. I didn’t need a psychologist to tell me that perfectionism can lead to anxiety and eventually endless procrastination. But what happens when procrastination simply cannot happen? When suspense is unavoidable. Well, I’m trying to get a grip on that right now.

My life feels like suspense like I’m constantly holding my breath. There’s so much I’m waiting on. Waiting on returning to university on Saturday, seeing my new rooms, meeting my flatmates. I’m waiting to hear if I can even stay at university or if this is yet another dream I’m saying goodbye to. Waiting to see a rheumatologist, to see if I have a diagnosis and then to see if it’s chronic and degenerative, as expected, and what my life is going to look like in a few years.

And then there’s the standard suspense that comes from your twenties. What on earth will my life look like 5 years from now? I’m doubtful it’ll be even similar to now. And I hate it. I hate not knowing. I hate the anxiety that roars when even the slightest hint of the unknown is present in my life let alone this lion that has overcome me right now. So what am I doing? I’m crying, in my mother’s bed, stroking my cat and writing my thoughts down here, for the world to see. Let’s face it, we all have things we hate. Perhaps yours is suspense like me, or something entirely different. But, what I have learnt, is that give it a year, maybe even a few months, this suspense and fear and sadness will have been a little dramatic – life will be easier than any scenarios I can envision, catastrophising is what I do best but at least I know that.

So I’ll leave it here. And maybe in 6 months I’ll look back and update you all on where I’m at – if this fear was truly needed? If my life was actually breaking at the seams (hint: it isn’t, I know that already).

And if you’re feeling at all similar I’m here to say that yours isn’t crumbling either. Breathe. Feel whatever you feel. But hang around to let it pass, whatever that means for you. Nothing ever ends up as bad as you’re thinking. Your imagination is a gift but a burden too. Just wait.

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