Day 184: Hello, my name is Chelsea and I am a pessimist

Hello wild ones! Good lord, my thighs have been protesting my every move today. Thursday night I did more squats and lunges, I am paying for them today.

I’ve been doing a lot of self reflection these past few days and I don’t know if I can say I am happy with what has been discovered.

I’m a pessimist. Always self identified as a realist borderline optimist, but a text from my brother made me realize that I have been fooling myself. Monday morning my brother was the one who told me it was more than okay for me to want to leave when I did and an exchange we had has just lingered in my mind. As I pulled away from the cabins I sent off one last text, “If I don’t see you in about 2 hours I’m dead on the road somewhere.” He replied by making sure I had not been drinking and then assuring me I would be fine. Immediately I wanted to text back with, “umm hello. I am in the hill country, winding roads, deer everywhere, crazies on the road,” but stopped short for 2 reasons; 1) I was driving and 2) that line of thinking gave me major pause.

That conversation has been weighing on me. Instead of just thanking my brother for the positive thoughts, my first instinct was to tell him he was wrong and count all the terrible ways I could be killed on my way home.  For the first time I realized that there was something wrong with my line of thinking, usually I would just say that I am a worrier and therefore over cautious, but it extends past that. I always leap right to complete and utter destruction. When presented with a any situation I go right for the worst case scenario. This is why when passing through intersections I am always waiting to feel the impact of another vehicle slamming into me. Visions of wrecks, carnage, death, destruction, and horror are on a constant loop in my mind. I constantly have to tell myself that my imagination is just running away from me and talk myself down from the proverbial ledge that I’m always poised on, teetering precariously on the ledge of my own pit of darkness and despair.

I don’t know if there is a way to change that part of me, but I wish I could. It would be nice to throw caution to the wind without worrying about that wind turning into a tornado. Maybe this is why I am now battling with my mood swings. Have I’ve been faking a happy facade? Has the energy I’ve put into that facade finally run out and now it’s just getting harder and harder to suppress the natural angst inside. Maybe I’m just dramatic. This line of thinking makes me want to ask everyone I know if they think I am a happy person, I always thought I was, but now I’m just not sure. This feeling of being unsure of who I am is wearing on me. And now I’m crying again.

I want to know who I am. But I’m scared. What if I don’t like who I really am? What do I do if I discover a broken individual buried beneath the rubble and I don’t like her? Will I have the strength to bury her again? I don’t want to be scared anymore.

My instinct here is to make a joke about my feelings, I’ve been doing that for so long it just feels natural. Already had a line typed out to dismiss the cloud of morose thoughts hovering, but today I decided to be honest and not give myself an out to make fun of my own feelings.

I hope you are all well.

Until tomorrow, stay wonderfully wild!

Chels

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