What ifs and failed mindsets

I made progress last year. My mind was set and clear. I knew where I was going and who I was.

I was happy and confident.

I met a brilliant man.

I moved 1,566 km’s away from everything and everyone I love.

Cue sprinting back to the confused lost girl who had no confidence and all of the self pity. I mean the pity party was huge and rocking. I pushed every new person I met away unintentionally and sat there hating myself. Everything about myself I fell in love with, I forgot and every single fucking thing I hated, became the only thing I could see. I missed my home, my family, my best friend and my unfortunate man who heard each whinge, whine and tear that fell from my face. Then a pandemic hit the world and made its invasive way to my reality. Mission impossible became mission tapping the fuck out.

I had reached my limit before. Now I was fucked.

Preparations were made and now I’m on my way to moving back home. Before I reached the safety of my support network, I had a pit stop and mini holiday in another town. A way to cleanse my soul of the hate that had taken tenancy. Little did I realise each concern and worry bubbled to the surface exploding into a breakdown.

I let it all spill out, my dumb little fears. I was moving in with this new brilliant man. What if he saw what a moron I really was? What if he was disgusted by how self centered I am? What if he see’s me eat a taco and runs for the hills (never watch me eat tacos, I can’t and won’t change the horror show that occurs). But what if what happened in the past occurs again? What if my mental health swallows him up and consumes our relationship? I’m worried I’ll lose this beautiful and intense love. I’m worried after 4 months of not being around, suddenly it will all be too much and he won’t want a second more with me.

Then there’s other fears. What if my new job doesn’t work out? What if they all hate me there (like I felt at my last gig)? What if my friends realised it was a picnic not having me around and are reminded what a terrible person I am? What if everyone was happier without me around? What happens if I don’t get better coming home and I’m always going to be this emotional wreck?

I’m crazy. I know. But that’s exactly why I am afraid. I’m crazy as fuck.

Then an idea pops into my head. I don’t let fear rule my life, I mean sure, it impacts it. But fuck. Never ruled.

I’m terrified of heights, but I’ll still go rock climbing and abseiling.

I’m afraid of people in groups. I still go out to social functions.

I was freaking the fuck out about moving away. I still did it.

But like I’ve done in the past and I’ll do again. I’ll make a plan, get help and plough forward. Because that’s life, right? It might all turn to shit, but in the same breath as much of a chance of it all fucking up, it might just end up okay. Everything could work out.

Get help, work this shit out, but most importantly – find a way to love myself again. Because when I have support from my own mind, suddenly the world seems less scary.