I have a confession: I am a scaredy-cat. Coward. Fearful. Chicken. Lily-livered. Timorous (thank you thesaurus.com).
This weekend I found something new to be terrified of each day. Today, I managed to become deeply lost in anxiety two times already. By 4 pm, I wanted to run home, make some tea, and hide under my bedcovers. And this was a great weekend and a great day. This really irks me.
This scaredy-cat I have become is new and alien to me. I don’t like her. We all have the normal capacity for fear, but OCD has done a fine job of making it my focus in life. Which is ridiculous and unnecessary because my life is peachy keen! 5 years ago, I found people like me annoying: taking no risks, bowing down excessively to the rules, and living (or not living, really) in constant anticipation of disaster. That’s not me at all and yet that’s how I have been behaving. And it is exhausting.
I can’t help but note as I go over old journal entries that the new attitude I possess really started to grow right when my anxiety disorder peaked. That makes sense I think. I guess my new cowardly take on life does not seem out of place when you realize what an anxiety disorder is.
I miss old me, before OCD changed my habits of thinking and perception. My psychologist called this old part of me my “Inner-Katniss Everdeen” 🙂 I feel like my inner-Katniss was taken hostage by Jiminy/OCD and is locked in a basement somewhere. I guess the bright side of this imagery is that this more balanced part of me is still alive; I just have to make it my mission to find her.