The obsessive thoughts are there for a reason, they are not just a chemically-defined symptom that inevitably consume my life. No. They are more than that, and they mean something. It’s such an ironic feeling to deal with uncontrollable thoughts, when, psychologically, I’m the one who is not only in control of them, but creating them. And I create them because I need them.
Before, I didn’t even notice; they were just part of my life. Words and thoughts are part of who I am. But their context is what either brings me life or kills my mind. Sadly, I’ve lived the latter. Tonight I caught a big glimpse of this truth. I saw what happens behind my familiar, obsessive thoughts. I saw that my own needs and voice were never really lost, and how my subconscious has been working hard to get what I needed all along.
I don’t stick around to listen to my own thoughts or opinions. Instead, I immediately panic, running to anyone I can find, anyone I can trust for an opinion. I’m trying to find a solid ground, a place to confidently place my heart and mind. But I never find it. Right when I think I’ve found it, another answers with their opinion, and I’m thrown into confusion. Now which one? I was so convinced, mentally defending my case. I’m not crazy. I’m telling the truth. I just need someone to believe me, to support my case and to defend me. I want to be heard. I was almost secure until this new opinion came in. Now I’m juggling two opinions, one in each hand, and soon to pile on more. And I’m here lost somewhere in the middle of it all.
I have a deep need to be heard, a need to prove myself. I needed support, someone to be by my side. I longed to be held and to feel secure. I needed to be told that what I was going through was not only okay, but that it was normal. Instead, I busily went about trying to find it, to prove myself so that I could be accepted. I tried to find my opinion in the opinions of others, carefully forming mine off of theirs to be accepted.
In times of need, I would obsessively think how I felt and about what I had experienced. I’d suffer through the seemingly uncontrollable thoughts, but I never paid attention to the truth of what I was playing on repeat in my head. I would think and think, perfectly convinced and sure of myself, justly defending my needs. I knew what I liked and what I didn’t like, and I would whisper my anger towards another - but only in my head. Once another person appeared on the scene, I’d immediately push my needs back, waiting to see what my opinion would look like.
Oh, the anxiety I suffer to find where I stand, the confusion I throw myself into as I consider each and every idea and comment that I hear. I didn’t just stumble upon these ideas, I sought them out, desperate to be heard and understood. I’ve allowed the opinions of others, or what I imagined their opinions to be, to shape my identity. That’s why I’ve been so fragile, so unstable, always changing and easily broken. But now I've seen it from a different view. I'm learning to listen to the anxious thoughts, and allow them to bring me to what I need, to who I am.