Panophobia: Chapter 2
Look, I like this word, panophobia. It rolls nicely off the tongue, it's all-encompassing, and perhaps most importantly, it's not a real thing.
PANOPHOBIA, as a concept, does not exist. So labelling my personal battles as something almost entirely unreal somehow makes it easier for me; it distances me from my issues. You may have already picked up on the fact that I'm good at distancing myself from problems, having moved across the world by myself to work things out.
But the simplest truth I can offer is that, despite my attempts to dress it up in a pretty negligee and make it do a sexy dance for aesthetic effect, I have severe anxiety and at least some form of milder depression. And that is not a fun truth to grapple with. It's hard to admit to yourself that your brain is slightly broken.
Because when someone asks, "Are you okay?"
"How are you?"
"Alright?"
I am forced by societal contractual obligation to lie - we all are. No-one ever wants the actual answer to that question. Here is how we all usually answer:
Or some other variation upon those. Here is how I would answer in a dystopian future where lying is forbidden on pain of death:
And then they would tell me all of their real world problems, like their money troubles and their family worries and their premature ejaculation, because a world with nothing but honesty would be terrible.
This is a really difficult topic to address, because I usually don't talk about my feelings, mainly because I can't shake the guilt that accompanies those conversations. Even as the words escape my lips, I know that they probably have real world problems.
They can't pay their mortgage, or their children are sick or they are a recovering cancer patient, and the world around has taught me that my mental battles aren't as important as their physical ones. Everyone fights their own battles, and we would be foolish to ignore that. That is how people like Trump win elections; he deliberately caters his campaign to the politically disenfraschised because he knows thay their problems are important for his success and that they feel their voices aren't heard until he comes along. It's vile and manipulative but it CLEARLY WORKS.
So that guilt at burdening someone with my invisible to the naked eye problems generally stops me from talking before I've ever opened my mouth. That's why keeping a blog helps; shouting into the void is easier than having a conversation. But that's something we all know.
The other thing that is real and tangible, but that I hate to acknowledge, is my self-rewards system.
Everyone knows what I'm talking about here - when we're children we're taught we can't have that toy unless we're good or we can't have dessert unless we eat all our vegetables, and if we pay attention, we retain that rewards system when we grow up. People channel this most obviously into dieting: you exercise every day and eat healthy so that every Friday you allow yourself a treat - a Mars Bar or a bowl of ice-cream of a night out or McDonalds etc. etc.
I have a similar system, except mine is fundamentally flawed. I am supposed to reward myself if I make it through a particularly rough patch or overcome some mental hurdle. Unfortunately this happens pretty regularly, and in fact some days I can congratulate myself on just getting out of bed. Nevermind the days when I barely avoid a panic attack or even those days when I just continue to breathe despite every impulse in my body telling me it wouldn't matter if I stopped.
So by the time my next paycheck arrives, I can justify spending all of that too. But of course I cannot continue to exist like this, I have to save money so I can actually afford to reward myself in the long term, for bigger victories. Victories like getting a job I actually want, or birthdays, and actual real-world achievements. Because we all know those are more important than the problems that only I can see.
Song of the Week: Samson - Regina Spektor
Come on, did you really think it would be anything else?
Movie of the Week: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
I stil haven't see Fantastic Beasts, so in the meantime I've been rewatching the series. It's still just as good as the first 500 times. And it's only after the third one that any major plot points get cut out of the films, so I'm gonna ride this wave of novel inclusiveness all the way until Cho and Harry's romance, Harry and Ginny's weird kiss, not enough Dobby, and Dumbledore shouting:
Book of the Week: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movie version)
I have owned the tiny fake text book with the same title since it was released, with all of Hermione, Ron and Hagrid's scribblings in the margins, but I recently bought the book with the story from the film and am thoroughly enjoying it: highly recommend.
Photo of the Week:
Me with Megan and Edmund, the two gorgeous kids I babysit. I wrote a long post on instagram about Trump under this photo, so if you'd like to check it out: https://www.instagram.com/p/BMoo7h5jhpU/?taken-by=talis_bluebox_99&hl=en
Positivity Goal of the Week: Make sure you're taking cqre of yourself properly.
But don't use words like "self-care" because it makes you sound like a twat. Just keep an eye on your habits and make sure you're okay. Love you all. xxx
PANOPHOBIA, as a concept, does not exist. So labelling my personal battles as something almost entirely unreal somehow makes it easier for me; it distances me from my issues. You may have already picked up on the fact that I'm good at distancing myself from problems, having moved across the world by myself to work things out.
But the simplest truth I can offer is that, despite my attempts to dress it up in a pretty negligee and make it do a sexy dance for aesthetic effect, I have severe anxiety and at least some form of milder depression. And that is not a fun truth to grapple with. It's hard to admit to yourself that your brain is slightly broken.
Because when someone asks, "Are you okay?"
"How are you?"
"Alright?"
I am forced by societal contractual obligation to lie - we all are. No-one ever wants the actual answer to that question. Here is how we all usually answer:
"How are you?"
"Fine, you?"
OR
"Yeah good, you?"
OR
"Meh, can't complain, how are you?"
Or some other variation upon those. Here is how I would answer in a dystopian future where lying is forbidden on pain of death:
"How are you?"
"Well, there isn't much I can point to as being specifically not good, but I can't shake this overwhelming feeling of dread that sits constantly in my stomach to remind me that I am not 100 percent happy. I may snatch brief, glorious moments of joy and elation, but I am always hyper-aware that at any moment, the panic and somehow simultaneous numbness will return. At the moment, however, it is quite low, so I can assuredly say that I cannot realistically complain. How are you?"
This is a really difficult topic to address, because I usually don't talk about my feelings, mainly because I can't shake the guilt that accompanies those conversations. Even as the words escape my lips, I know that they probably have real world problems.
They can't pay their mortgage, or their children are sick or they are a recovering cancer patient, and the world around has taught me that my mental battles aren't as important as their physical ones. Everyone fights their own battles, and we would be foolish to ignore that. That is how people like Trump win elections; he deliberately caters his campaign to the politically disenfraschised because he knows thay their problems are important for his success and that they feel their voices aren't heard until he comes along. It's vile and manipulative but it CLEARLY WORKS.
So that guilt at burdening someone with my invisible to the naked eye problems generally stops me from talking before I've ever opened my mouth. That's why keeping a blog helps; shouting into the void is easier than having a conversation. But that's something we all know.
The other thing that is real and tangible, but that I hate to acknowledge, is my self-rewards system.
Everyone knows what I'm talking about here - when we're children we're taught we can't have that toy unless we're good or we can't have dessert unless we eat all our vegetables, and if we pay attention, we retain that rewards system when we grow up. People channel this most obviously into dieting: you exercise every day and eat healthy so that every Friday you allow yourself a treat - a Mars Bar or a bowl of ice-cream of a night out or McDonalds etc. etc.
I have a similar system, except mine is fundamentally flawed. I am supposed to reward myself if I make it through a particularly rough patch or overcome some mental hurdle. Unfortunately this happens pretty regularly, and in fact some days I can congratulate myself on just getting out of bed. Nevermind the days when I barely avoid a panic attack or even those days when I just continue to breathe despite every impulse in my body telling me it wouldn't matter if I stopped.
So I buy that McDonalds, because I've earned it.
I splash out on concert tickets because it's been a hellish month.
I watch one more movie because any time not spent in my own head is a blessing.
I buy those clothes from Primark because I should at least look good while I break down.
So by the time my next paycheck arrives, I can justify spending all of that too. But of course I cannot continue to exist like this, I have to save money so I can actually afford to reward myself in the long term, for bigger victories. Victories like getting a job I actually want, or birthdays, and actual real-world achievements. Because we all know those are more important than the problems that only I can see.
Song of the Week: Samson - Regina Spektor
Come on, did you really think it would be anything else?
Movie of the Week: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
I stil haven't see Fantastic Beasts, so in the meantime I've been rewatching the series. It's still just as good as the first 500 times. And it's only after the third one that any major plot points get cut out of the films, so I'm gonna ride this wave of novel inclusiveness all the way until Cho and Harry's romance, Harry and Ginny's weird kiss, not enough Dobby, and Dumbledore shouting:
Book of the Week: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movie version)
I have owned the tiny fake text book with the same title since it was released, with all of Hermione, Ron and Hagrid's scribblings in the margins, but I recently bought the book with the story from the film and am thoroughly enjoying it: highly recommend.
Photo of the Week:
Me with Megan and Edmund, the two gorgeous kids I babysit. I wrote a long post on instagram about Trump under this photo, so if you'd like to check it out: https://www.instagram.com/p/BMoo7h5jhpU/?taken-by=talis_bluebox_99&hl=en
Positivity Goal of the Week: Make sure you're taking cqre of yourself properly.
But don't use words like "self-care" because it makes you sound like a twat. Just keep an eye on your habits and make sure you're okay. Love you all. xxx
Comments
Post a Comment