Ah yes, the all to frequent update into my experiences with anxiety.
A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting with my family, as we do on compulsory Friday family night. We were talking of… university funding, I think, and I asked if I could get officially diagnosed with an anxiety disorder (which I’m not at the moment) so I can apply for more funding, put it on job applications and so on; when I don’t mention it, I feel like I’m hiding something, and can’t expect them to accommodate my problems. Anyway.
That topic of conversation was fixed upon. Now, I have a hard time talking about it face to face with people – hence the main reason I post my experience here – and having my family focus wholly on my problem is weird and not something I’m comfortable with. I’d rather sort out the problems of the world than bring up my own issues, which is actually part of the anxiety.
So I try and explain it to mum, what I’m feeling, when I feel it and that it’s most often when I feel like I could disappoint people. Because that’s what I think it is – I feel such a need to please and impress people, that I worry about not doing it.
Long and almost forgotten story short, mum thinks I’m a perfectionist, that I hold myself to perfection and incredibly high standards, and I inevitably can’t reach these standards, which is where the doubt and worry and panic sets in.
Ultimaely, I think she’s right, I do hold myself to high standards, but it’s not the need to be perfect; I am aware that I am not and can never be.
It’s the need to be better. I don’t need to be the best, I need to be better than I am. Because, if we’re not constantly improving ourselves and how we impact other’s lives, it feels like an existence wasted. Bettering ourselves doesn’t have to mean trying to reach perfection. It can mean… subtle improvments.
I guess mine aren’t so subtle though.