As We Are

''blessing in disguise.''

I've contemplated what my life might be like if I weren't born an anxious spirit, many, many times.

I've imagined that I would be outgoing, adventurous, and utterly fearless.

I've imagined that I might make friends more easily and have people that love me more readily.

I'm a daydreamer, and have rerun and created scenarios in my mind of the if only.

If only I weren't anxious. If only I weren't introverted.

If only I weren't me.

In my daydreams, I'm strong and kind and charismatic.

In life, not so much.

And that's okay. Life is a work in progress, as are we.

But back to the idea of myself without anxiety.

I've considered the idea that perhaps, if fate or god or some blueprint of the universe does exist, then perhaps the reason I have anxiety, and have always had anxiety, is as a way to temper something else.

Something bad, or something dangerous. I'm not sure.

Maybe someone, or something, knew that without anxiety to temper me, I'd cause harm to myself or others. Maybe.

That probably makes very little sense, as I'm not great at articulating my thoughts in a clear and concise manner. I suppose it doesn't matter though, seeing as I'm likely talking to myself here.

But maybe I can explain my thinking with an example or two.

Everyone assumes that I'm a 'good girl'because I want to be.

Because that's who I am.

And to a degree, that it true. Now seventeen years old, on a logical level, and regardless of anxiety, I will make 'good girl'decisions. It's a habit I've developed and learned from. I believe in, even.

However, no matter how right I think a decision is, that doesn't mean deep down I don't, or at least haven't, desired to do the complete opposite.

If it weren't for my anxiety growing up, I wouldn't have passed on any of the opportunities to misbehave that I was presented with.

I wanted to sneak out of school.

I wanted to say 'fuck you'to my third grade teacher and throw a chair across the room.

I wanted to punch brick walls and kick glass doors and steal stuff from shops.

I wanted to act on every destructive impulse I had despite the consequences.

But I didn't.

I didn't because I was anxious. Not because I thought it was wrong to do bad things.

Over the years, however, despite still sometimes wanting to act out, my nature now is to do the right thing (of course, philosophically speaking, there is no such thing as wrong or right, only individual perception, so we are working with the English dictionary definitions here that most of us were taught growing up).

Deep down, I believe that had I not grown up with anxiety, I would have become an increasingly bad behaved, and eventually mean spirited person.

And so maybe my anxious spirit is a blessing in disguise. 

Maybe.