I am having anxiety. I just took my herbal anxiety remedy and hope it helps. It’s chewable, and at least I like the taste. Kid parts like the sweet crunchiness.
I am anxious because I am afraid I am ruining the choir. How can I tell how I sound? We don’t hear ourselves the way others hear us. I know I’m shreaky on high notes. I didn’t go last Sunday so I didn’t get the practice, which happens after the service. Plus I didn’t know we’re to come a half hour early, so I came just on time, so no time to warm up. What if I’m louder than I think and am wrecking it for everyone? No wonder the choir leader wouldn’t meet my eyes.
Um. On the other hand. Maybe it’s fine. I sound fine to me. I feel like we’re not that great, because we’re just random people thrown together for a few weeks to sing. Sigh. No one would tell me if I was too loud, because they want to be nice. I try to listen to others and fit in, but it’s hard.
Why does everything I do have to be about judgement and performance? I try not to let it. But I guess when you actually are performing, the tendency is there. Why am I so freaked out and ashamed that I may not be great at singing?
If I had one honest relationship there, that person could tell me what they think. But I don’t. Everyone is ‘nice’.
I want to write about my therapy session, but I’m too discombobulated to do so. Yesterday I spent a fair amount of the day crying. I think it was a follow-up to therapy, where a particular part got a lot of time. What she talked about wasn’t that upsetting, but once a part gets time, a lot of other stuff seems to come up as well. It was about my life in suburb town, where I lived from grade four through high school. I guess I was sad a lot of that time. This part was anyway.
This life with parts is hard. Parts peeking out, then subsiding again. Mostly not knowing what I think, myself, apart from the huge fears that parts have.
At least I’m feeling things. It’s new. Crying is new. Anxiety and fear are familiar, but crying not so much.
I also still feel bad about losing my job. And related to that, doing so badly at it. Or rather, being perceived as doing so badly. That hurt. When everyone around seems to think bad things about you, it’s hard to keep your head up. I end up feeling two inches tall.
I think everything is all mixed up. My life as a child was one of humiliation, often times. It’s not that surprising that I’d feel like that in the present also. I wish I didn’t feel so humiliated.