Doing things for other people

It’s a big one for me.

At the moment I am feeling quite mentally aware of my thoughts and able to challenge them, sometimes.

I feel like a spectator watching myself do things and act in certain ways to fit in, be liked or because I should.

Slowly, slowly, I am more able to challenge myself, but with kindness. Pause before I speak or say yes to something. Turn towards something that feels right but scares me a bit.

Slowly, slowly, kindly kindly. Kindness is key I am realising.

When the anxiety comes, breathing into my belly and smiling towards myself.

 

I was recently asked if I wanted to move into managing sales as well as marketing and branding (which I do already) at work. On paper, it is more prestigious, a promotion of sorts and more impressive. Immediately, I said yes, but on reflection, I realised it wasn’t what I wanted. I prefer working creatively on projects and want to delve deeper into the areas I work in now. I don’t enjoy sales and it doesn’t interest me. So I spoke to my boss honestly and now feel excited and happy.

Last weekend I was asked to attend a few different social things, mostly involving drinking. Instead of saying yes I paused for a bit and didn’t commit. I ended up having a lovely spontaneous post work out dinner and 1 glass of red wine with my flat mate and spontaneous day wandering around the botanical gardens with a friend the next day and afternoon of cleaning and reading at home. I’m realising I actually prefer spending time with less people and I like being on my own. For a while I have felt afraid to be alone for too long and felt that I should be saying yes to everything and constantly making friends. But, deep down I prefer having less, closer friends, smaller groups and I enjoy my own company.

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Social Anxiety

I had a bit of a break through last week. I think. I hope.

I realised that my social anxiety comes from a place of thinking I am going to be hurt or judged by those around me.

Firstly, it is a horrible way to view the world. Secondly, it is horrible for your own sense of self worth.

I am challenging this negative mindset. Seeing someone glance at me as a natural human response.

Instead of thinking I look bad or I am weird or different and looking away, I am trying to make myself smile with an open heart.

Giving a little bit of space to allow for connection.

Assuming I am safe and people are good.

Even when someone is off or rude, assuming it isn’t about me, they are struggling as we all are.

It’s a nice way to live.

 

It has helped me to grasp where this unhelpful mindset has come from. A loud family, arguments and an anxious mother = a daughter who is fearful, quiet, people pleasing and wanting to not stand out. 

Why do I think my life is a joke? 

Because I’ve moved away from those things my parents held in high esteem.

Long term boyfriend. Impressive job. House in London.

Now an expat. Single. Flat sharing. Figuring out what I like to do. What brings me energy.

They don’t get it. And for so long I held my worth up by what they valued or wanted for me.

Half the time I am confident in myself. Half the time riddled with doubt.

70 percent of the time happier. 30 percent of the time very anxious.

All progressing though and as I turn towards my self and my instincts more. I am growing.

 

Meditation.

This is my diary.

I feel a deep sadness in my heart. I feel alone, vulnerable, different. I don’t trust myself, my sense of who I am. What do I believe in? Why am I writing this? Why don’t I just zone out and scroll through Instagram instead.

But it is there. A niggling sense that I should address this deeper sense of uncertainty, which causes me so much anxiety.

So I will sit here with it. Watch it flutter around my chest space. My heart. Up and down. I shall breathe deep, into my belly. Three times. Holding at the end of each inhale and exhale slowly thereafter.

Slowly, the uncertainty starts to fade. I return to the now and there is more space to breathe, to pause. I’m less reactionary. The sadness is there, but it isn’t me.

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