Anxiety Tells Me I’m Difficult To Love

I’ve dealt with anxiety and depression my entire life – and I deal with it better in some situations than others. Due to my complicated past and childhood trauma, I, unfortunately, have a particularly hard time with romantic relationships. It’s always tough to manage my mental health but it becomes more difficult when another person’s feelings and perspectives are involved.

Sometimes it seems like I should remain alone forever. It’s easier to ignore my ugly when no one else knows what’s really going on. As soon as I care about someone, the question arises: how much can I share? When am I demonstrating trust and when am I accidentally treating that person like my therapist?

Yes, single life is simpler. I can be selfish with my time and commit to inward reflection as much as I damn well please. What I’m learning about relationships is that no matter how much work I do alone, it’s not teaching me how to deal with other human beings. I’m naturally a bit of a loner, introspective, prone to spinning out mentally when I spend too much time with myself. I need interaction to distract me from the disruptive, dysfunctional thought processes that come up when I’m alone.

Unfortunately, once I’m in a partnership, all the demons want to come out to play and screw it all up. I get attached in spite of myself. I start to fear losing that person and then I let it all go to shit. I know that I have to learn the difference between healing myself and simply dumping on my partner, expecting them to understand.

It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. My anxiety whispers insidious thoughts of doubt and worthlessness into my brain, and I, in turn, act out on those thoughts whether or not it makes any sense. Let’s be honest – most of the time it’s a terrible idea. Then I suffocate and shut down my negative feelings instead. That doesn’t work either. I’m afraid that if I don’t figure out how to fix these issues, I am going to lose everyone who cares about me.

I know that I’m not guaranteed the love of others and that I have to be strong within myself in order to move through this life and keep my sanity. On the other hand, I also know that I have to do the work while I’m in the situations that scare me. I want to be able to love and be loved without fear or insecurity. I want to feel good enough about myself to maintain that sense of security when another person enters the picture.

My anxiety is my worst enemy and I keenly desire to eradicate it. It takes a tremendous amount of effort and time just to manage it, and I hope that I can find an answer before I allow it to ruin anything else. The depression and anxiety are familiar but it’s time to get rid of them for good. They are not who I am and I no longer want them to define me.

I do not want to live my life in fear of losing the people I care about because of my mental health disorder. I hate that it’s controlled me for so long, but I also have to remember that it is an illness and that I am not a failure because of my imperfections.

I’m caught in a vicious cycle where anxiety tells me that I’m difficult to love and then, in turn, takes over and in fact makes me difficult to love. To know that and still struggle to change it is beyond exasperating, but I’m trying. I am doing the best I can do right now. I wouldn’t ask anything more of anyone else, so I must be kind to myself.

I am striving to be the best person I can be. I am loving, kind, and compassionate. There is so much more to me than this stubborn anxiety, and I am in fact not difficult to love when I don’t let it get in my way. It’s only when I give in that trouble arises. Like it or not, I’ve been dealt this condition. How I choose to perceive and control it is my choice, and I refuse to let it win.