As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become a combination stress/worry machine. Give me a reason to overthink anything and I do. Just ask any member of my family or any friend- If there’s something out there that needs worrying about, I’ll be the first person to volunteer my head for the job. I guess most shrinks would say it boils down to having an anxiety problem, and I’d say they’re probably spot on with that diagnosis. But, the more people I meet in this world, the more I discover that there isn’t a human being walking the planet that doesn’t have something to “worry” them in their day to day activity. It’s easy to think the rich, the good looking or the brilliant have nothing to worry about in life. The world’s their oyster right? Think again. Some of the most successful people I know are also the ones that can’t catch a wink of sleep at night because of their worry factory working overtime.
But here’s what I think the real problem is. Most of us are way too protective of our anxiety. Funny this is, most doctors will tell you that not talking about your anxieties actually only makes them worse. We all end up walking around thinking no one else is as stressed as we are. Then the problems just blow up in your mind and become much worse because you think you’re all alone in the battles you face.
Over the past couple of weeks I have watched friends battle with this dilemma, and have, of course, lived it myself. I have discovered there is only one cure that exists. It’s not an easy one. In fact, it can be the hardest way of solving the problem because it requires you be honest with yourself and others. You have to get this stuff out into the air. You have to spend time with a person you trust with your thoughts and you have to just leak every stress out onto the table. Chances are they’ll either tell you your stress is only made “bad” by your own pattern of thinking, or they’ll tell you they are on the same exact page. Either result helps turn a festering worry pot into a bowl full of honey.
Why mention this now? Well, I thought it high time to preach what I practice. Yes, yes, that turn of phrase is most commonly used the other way around. But, honestly, I have spent so much time over the past couple of months talking to amazing young women who have commented on how fabulous and easy my life appears on instagram and the blog. They’ve more or less made me think I’ve contributed to the increasingly manic anxiety problem the world faces today, due to the plethora of envy-inducing content shared across social platforms. Just look at the picture above with me and the precious pup. At that moment I’m happy as a claim. Five seconds later I’m worrying about whether or not I remembered to turn off the curling iron in my London flat before flying home to the States. Go figure.
But here’s the thing- you’re never going to find me instagramming about a bad day. Do you follow many people who do? Hell, I have pictures lined up to share on the days that are actual bad days, just so I can keep a happy flow happening on FFG. Sure, the content on here is all happy-go-lucky-fabulous. But, would you come here if I starting writing something else? Sometimes it’s the blog itself that saves me from the days that are grey and pointless. And it’s you, dear readers, that I have to thank for that. So I sure as hell, don’t want to be a part of the anxiety production line here for anyone else. The bottom line is that we’re all human. We all deal with the same problems, they just arrive in different packaging. So I’m saying this loud and proud, with the hopes of helping the general anxiety blanketing the world today – WORRY HAPPENS. It’s all about how you deal with it moving forward that will make or break you.
Pick up the phone or set a date with friend for a few drinks (if you’re old enough) and a relaxing night of just chatting about ridiculous things, things that need to be said out loud to be understood as ridiculous. The number of evenings where I have spent hours on the phone with my parents, Mr. FFG, or my best girlfriends, is a number so large I can’t even begin to calculate it. But those hours have saved me. They have saved me from walking straight off a tall bridge (metaphorically speaking).
You’re not alone, ladies. Pick up the phone and call someone who cares. Hell, comment below. I’ll answer ya. But there’s no reason you need to be in this stress ball solo. The whole world’s right there with you, you might just not know it yet.