1066 All Stars

It is incredible how easily the mask slips back on.

Two scenarios presented themselves over the last few days, both stemming from the same incident. As ever, the specifics of the cause are irrelevant, it is my reaction to it that I want to explore.

A situation has been bubbling away, the details changing and developing daily. With a deadline approaching where action was required, I remained clam, safe in the knowledge that we had time to resolve all issues. Then, at 5pm on Friday afternoon, I decide to try and resolve it, suddenly panicked that things would not resolve themselves in time. Despite discussing the issue with others, I was overwhelmed most of Friday night and into Saturday, repeatedly seeking time to ruminate as if I could simply think the problem away. By Sunday, exhausted and fed up, I finally put the issue to bed before coming back to work on Monday with the intention to resolve.

But Monday brought its own issues.

It remains unresolved, the deadline for affirmative action looming large, but progress has been made. Still, my mood is suppressed, I am wracked with tension that I can feel creeping up to my skull, the looming headache I can feel coming already affecting my plans for the evening.

And through it all, I present an exterior of calm and control to all but a select few. No one can know how wracked I am by doubt. No one can know the anxiety of every decision, the blame, the judgement of self, the guilt. The mask slips on. The illusion is maintained.

To the world I say, ‘I am in control.’

Inside, I am screaming, ‘help me.’

So what is going on? The underlying anxiety stems from fear and loss of control. I found myself in a position where I felt it my duty alone to resolve to the satisfaction of all. I was not ultimately responsible and yet was prepared to accept any and all blame should something go wrong. Added to this was my decision to attempt to resolve on Friday afternoon. With the weekend uppn me, there was no option but for the issue to lie unresolved for two days, festering in my mind, negative layer upon negative layer.

I recognised these negative, repetitive thoughts for what they were, even vocalised them to others. At one point I attempted to put them in perspective by reminding myself that in two days, it would be over, that either the issue would be resolved or my worst fears realised but either way it would be done. And yet I could not stop them. They dominated my weekend, affecting my mood.

At times like these, I want everyone to know about my anxiety issues. I want people to know the inner fragility so that I do not have to pretend, so that I can cede control. Instead, I feel an obligation to take control, to project an image of calm resolution. It is what is expected of me. It seems like what we are supposed to do. And I want to as well. I enjoy responsibility, I enjoy feeling valued. But an inner conflict tells me I'm not good enough, that others cope better. And then comes the doubt, the judgement, the self loathing, as well as disappointment that still, two years on from therarpy, I have failed to conquer these issues. Layer upon layer upon layer of negativity.

Underneath it all is a river of duty that flows through me. There is a sense that if I do something wrong, I will be told off. If that sounds childish, it perhaps goes some way to demonstrating how deep rooted this issue is, clearly something formed in childhood and carried forward to adult life.

I don't know how to fix this negative thought cycle. But I want to, and that's a start.