baby-making-diary-writing

Here are a few pages from the diary of an anxious soul. Though she prefers anonymity, the thoughts she pens down resonates with many of us. Over to her:

As I sit on my desk without any work at the moment, I fear that is it because they don’t want to keep me here. I have already imagined what they would say or do, I have even imagined my mom’s reaction to it. Now I’m worried how I’m going to pay the bills. And God, not again, do I want to be at the crossroads.

When I lose weight and buy a smaller sized clothing, I worry about gaining weight and not fitting into this sweet little thing. And so I always buy loose pairs of jeans, just in case, I gain weight again!

I live in a world of constant anxiety where things don’t work out or would not, not because I think so but that’s how it is generally. I generally expect the worst, because the best usually doesn’t happen but nonetheless I’m sad when the worst happens. I beat myself up over having negative thoughts and then I beat myself over beating myself up. If my mom doesn’t pick up the call, I imagine the worst case scenario. I worry over everything, over the next meal, the next year and whatever is coming or not coming next.

I worry that my future will fall short of my hopes, that I would be just another nobody, adjusted to a typical normal life, full of unspoken regrets. I worry that my future is not going to be worth it.
People tell me to live my life, make the best of what I have, explore, travel, smile. But they don’t have budget constraints to worry about. They don’t have to chose between a gas bill or an Internet connection. And then yet again the same series of questions grip me: if it’s like this now, how bad would be the future?

I read some more and the wise men tell me to look for happiness inside me, to be grateful, to be at peace. I try it in impatience, and get even more flustered when it doesn’t work. They say life takes time. Well, if I had that, I wouldn’t be anxious now, would I?

  I feel, as if am sitting on a time bomb, waiting for an explosion, waiting to hit rock bottom in a scary future. And eventually, I do hit it. A new low every time.
It’s all in the mind, they tell me. I gotta be positive. I try to hang on to that thought, desperately trying not to look down while I cross the cliff. But then I do, and I fall, yet again.  I am trying, yet another time, because I don’t know what else to do. I hope it works this time. I hope I don’t look down this time. Hope keeps me going now. A bleak sense of hope, but hope nevertheless. And for all things that I beat myself up about, there’s one that I am proud of, that I am not giving up. Not just yet.
Srishti is a lawyer by profession and a blogger by choice. She writes at Law Schools Terrace.

 

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