Perfomance anxiety like a mother-

I want to be a writer.

No. An author. I want to be an author.

And in order to do that, I have to actually write. And it's not like I don't have the story mapped out. I have outlines, character descriptions, outfit inspirations, everything. I can talk hours upon hours about plots, battles, relationships, settings all of it. But I've spent the last few days stuck on one particular chapter, barred in my own fear with the same questions:

What if this story actually sucks?

What if the premise isn't good enough?

What if you fail? 

What if I fail? The fear of failure has kept me from doing a lot in life. That and the fear of rejection has kept me stagnant in my mindset, leaving me unable to wade through my own wants, needs and desires. The only reason I rediscovered my love for writing was because I didn't have anyone to talk to, so I bought a notebook and wrote a short story, remembering how cathartic it was for me do displace negative emotions onto a fictional person and have them walk through several scenarios to see a resolution of my problems. That is easy because it isn't going to be seen. I don't have to worry about failure there. But the stories that I want to get published are a completely different beast. I want others to see the worlds that I built. I am cutting open my skull and my heart and letting other people in to see it. But what if no one like it? What if other people don't like the color I paint the walls? What if they reject my story and, ultimately, me? Thoughts like that are what get me the label of emotional and keep me from completing an easy lay up of a novel that is outlined to the point that All I have to do is add dialogue and the book is written. But here I am, letting anxiety drag me into her cold, wet abyss. So, hopefully, within the next few days, I will break through the fear fog and write a few more chapters getting me closer to possibly publishing.

Social Media Anxiety

Whenever I get sad, I like to do things that make me sadder to purge the emotion. Sometimes it's watching a particularly sad scene in a show or movie, but mainly I listen to sad songs. There’s one song in particular that never fails to make the tears fall, the sobs rack, and acts as a siren call to physically purge a negative emotion. Smother, as the title suggest, is about an overbearing individual. Just like James Blake was able to sing depression in the listener during Forward, Elena Tonra embodies the anxiety of someone who maybe a habitual line stepper in the realm of familiarity of any relationship.

What do I mean? Where the hell am I going with this?

Social Media is a wonderful, terrifying place. As a black woman, I don’t have that many avenues to be myself off the web. Between work, home, and the forced social interaction that is everyday, mundane life, I get the privilege of holding a lot of things in. Social media is a place that I can go to vent into a virtual void and more than likely get someone who empathizes with my plight. It’s a place where I can shout out people that I admire, and maybe even interact with them if the stars align just right. Social media is my version of Narnia or Hogwarts, where I get to in and watch funny or inspiring content or engage in conversations on a variety of topics. And in the above statement lies the terrifying part of Social Media; because I refrain from interacting in my real life, I tend to be a little overly familiar on the web. Admittedly, I don’t know when I cross that line, so when I see general posts about people getting overly fresh on the internet, I automatically assume that the tweet is about me. And I hate it because I know what it’s like to have people think that they can say or do anything and you won’t react. I deal with people saying racist shit and then telling me not to worry because I’m “one of the good ones”. I know what it’s like for people to stick their hands in my hair because it’s just “So cool”. People have put hands on me because “You’re so soft”. I have had people offer unsolicited advice on how I could lose weight because “You’d be so much prettier if you were skinny”. These are people that I interact with on a daily basis and every time something like this happens I want to scream because I hate it. I hate not being able to say what’s on my mind for fear of serious repercussions.

So why would I be content to inflict that on someone else?

Answer: I’m not. Not even a little.

So when these post show up, it’s kind of like someone tugging on my hoodie. Now I’m the microagressive asshat. I’m the person grabbing someone’s shoulder and turning them around because I’m just trying to hi, and the conversation was taking so long. I don’t want to be that person. I try my best to not be that person. But then I see a post that says, “Gen Pop: we are not friends. I don’t know you, so gimme fifty feet.” And then my anxiety kicks up. Congrats jackass, you made someone uncomfortable. So then I stop interacting with that person. Then I think, “How many people think this and are afraid to say this to me”? Anxiety intensifies. So then I start to think.

“Maybe I should just stay off of social media forever.”

“Maybe I’m an annoying codswallow who no one wants to hear from.”

“Maybe I don’t have any friends.”

That last one is always the one that makes me want to stay in bed for the next forever. Because, say what you want about online friends not being real, but sometimes in real life friends are trash and a means to an end. The people that I interact with online won’t think I’m weird if I finish a book in two hours and spend the next eight going into an in depth analysis of it. So if the people that I have the most fun interacting with are not only not my friends, but also find my draining to be around? Anxiety at critical mass. I get that the  posts or threads I see do not necessarily mean that the creator is talking to/about me. However the possibility that it could very well be that I am annoying these people is enough. The one community that I feel like I don’t have to pretend to be okay with the dumb shit, I am seen as annoying. I get that not everyone is going to like me, I get that everyone has an off day and says something that they don’t mean. But what if they are in the majority? What if everyone agrees that I’m a suffocator? Crushing, crippling anxiety for the win.

I just don’t want to be annoying, but most of the stuff in my day to day life leaves me starving for genuine interaction with like minded people. Which might lead me to look like a rabid dog on occasion and earn me the label of “annoying”. So what do I do? Stay offline and let real life slowly drive me insane? Continue to interact and hope that the people I interact with know that they can tell me when I’m playing hard for team extra?

I don’t know.

For now, all I can say is I’m sorry if I smothered you.