Reinvention

It's been approximately three weeks since I moved into my apartment. Over that course of time, I've felt anxious, scared, excited, isolated,  and depressed. But most important of all, I feel free. Depression and anxiety are still a really big part of my life however, and I feel a bit naive for thinking a new environment was going to make most things easier to handle. The panic attacks have returned with a frequency that is very concerning, and have begun to occur even while I'm at work.

Regardless of that, I don't feel the same kind of panic that arises when someone wants to visit. I can invite friends over for the first time in several years, and my roommate isn't someone that thinks of me only as an extension of herself. The anxiety I've been experiencing is of a different nature than what I had dealt with back home, and now seems to be rooted more firmly in my own issues with confidence and self worth rather than an immediate outside source, i.e. my mother's hoard or the deteriorating condition of the house.

Although I've seen a definite improvement overall, it seems there's still a lot of work to be done.

Apprehension

Now that everything has fallen into place and nearly all of the packing is done, I've had a lot of time to think. Usually, this isn't a good thing; I tend to focus too much on negative thoughts rather than positive ones. It's become difficult to remember that even small things have the potential to make life better, or to think of what things could become if given a chance to grow. Deeper friendships, a better relationship, all of it seems so distant while I feel so emotionally numb. With worsening depression has come the instinct to recoil back to the emotional wall I used to be so comfortable hiding behind. Speaking my mind and opening up once again seem pointless, and it's been so much easier to go through the motions than to continue experimenting with being open and connecting with people.

It's strange to think I used to feel secure, even briefly happy, although that was six months ago. I felt capable of opening up to people and wasn't afraid of it. Now, I feel the complete opposite. My theory is that a lifetime of being treated a certain way by both of my parents, as though I had always been incapable of making decisions and was inappropriately emotional, is the underlying cause of it. Why else would all of these old feelings come up with such a vengeance if it wasn't because I've been challenging the false identity I've worn my entire life?

Progress, Part Two

In less than a week I'll be on my own in an environment were peace is much easier to find. Six days, to be exact. I've continued to pack and prepare for the move, which in itself has been challenging. Not physically, but emotionally. The most mentally exhausting aspect of sorting through my things has been having to face the memories they might bring up, and bad memories are often easier to recall than good ones.

I picked up the keys from my soon-to-be roommate today, and that alone managed to stir up some conflicting emotions. While I feel sure that this decision is the right one, I can't shake the anxiety it brings. Why does it require so much work to feel secure in my choices, while doubt is so much easier to come by? Even at work, it's so much easier to fall into a negative train of thought than it is to believe I'm doing well there.

Regarding the process and how my mother has been handling it, she's been helpful in my search for the basics I'll need such as a bed, linens, etc. I'm surprised about that, to say the least. I also managed to work up the nerve to ask my aunt for help, which was no easy task. She's offered to lend me her van, which has taken a lot of the stress out of this entire process. I've noticed it's still very difficult for me to reach out to anyone regardless of the positive results I've gotten, though.