Every year around this time, my anxiety shoots through the roof. Coupled with the colder weather, I feel like absolute hell and there’s really no good way for me to “snap out of it”.
Lately, I’ve convinced myself I’ve gotten nothing done this year and COVID made all my plans fall through. While this is somewhat of an exaggeration, my brain works in magical ways. A bit broken and endlessly neurotic.
Overthinking is one of my weaker points I need to work on. I sometimes have this nagging itch to want to see everything from every perspective and it consumes my thoughts. Everyone — meaning my friends and coworkers, tell me to just chill out. Take it for what it is.
What the hell does that mean? I’ve come to realize this entire cluster fuck of a year we call 2020 was unexpected and unpredictable. The year is almost over and while it should be winding down, I’ve gotten exponentially busier. My work is planning on moving to a new location next year and I’m expected to take on greater duties.
It’s the theme with life. Getting old, getting busy, and keeping the mind restless. Being content is the goal as I’ve told myself many times. I want more, want to do more, and carry myself higher. Achievements and fortunes don’t come easy after all. Say it isn’t so.