"Barefoot Moment"

This post is a little untypical of my blog, but I wanted to share a "barefoot" side of me with all of you.

I’ve been having those days where “everything-I-wear-looks-horrible.”

Everything I try on lately, clothes or shoes, I absolutely hate and I immediately rip it off of me and throw it on my floor, which results in cumbersome piles of clothing and shoes constantly covering my floor. I’m sure most girls, and some boys, can relate to those days where everything just doesn’t look right. It’s frustrating, time-consuming and confidence deflating.

I believe it may be stemming from my anxiety.

I’ve always had anxiety in my life but it has only been recently that I’ve actually been diagnosed. I have always obsessed about things that are unimportant. I worry about things that haven’t even happened yet, to the point of making myself physically sick. And I’m not worrying about what I’m going to do after college, or difficult tests coming up but rather, I worry that I will be stalked, not be able to have children, that someone I love will die abruptly, or that I will get in a car accident. I don’t always voice these concerns, because I know that they are irrational, and because of this my body takes a beating.

I need a set schedule and a plan for everyday. If I don’t have a plan, I become depressed. If I don’t have a schedule, I’m anxious and shaky. I try to be spontaneous but it’s not that easy.

I am also overly conscious of my appearance, the words I say and the way I am perceived by others. I am a perfectionist and if someone gets the wrong impression of me, I think about it until the point of an obsession with someone I barely know. Sometimes I don’t even voice my opinion because I am afraid it will give someone a bad taste in their mouth. There are other times when I won’t leave my house because I don’t look good enough to make the right impression in someone’s mind of who I truly am. I’ve spent a lot of time in my life worrying what someone thinks I am, how I look to them and how I sound to them.

I believe this is why I have such a large quantity of clothes and of shoes. It is also why I am so picky about what I wear on my body. I want each piece of clothing, each pair of shoes to express who I truly am. Although I see no problem with that aspect of it, the way I go about it is the thing that bothers me. I wish I was more able to be carefree and realize that there will be those “everything-I-try-on-looks-horrible” days.

But lately, I’ve been getting help and I’ve been realizing I’m not alone. Today at SUNY Oswego, we had quest day, which is a day of presentations that students and some teachers give about their fields of study. I’m part of a mental health club on campus called Active Minds and today they had an event called “Send Silence Packing” which included around 1,000 backpacks that represented the number of college students that had commit suicide every year. Each backpack has a story of someone who has committed suicide. It was powerful.

As I walked around and read each backpack, I found lots of similarities. One was that each story was equally upsetting and the next was that many of the stories included people that suffered from a mental illness.

I was brought to tears several times as I made my way around the bags, but there was one that especially stood out. It was a backpack that had a story from a mother talking about her son who had suffered from extreme anxiety over the smallest things and finally killed himself to relieve the pain. I’ve never thought of killing myself, but it was a startling moment when I realized that I’m not alone. It was also a startling moment when I realized what can happen if you don’t get help.

Anxiety is hard for people to understand, just as any other mental illness. It’s easy to say, well just stop feeling like that. But it doesn’t work like that. I have constant thoughts but I know I can’t suppress them, ignore them or let them get to me. People tell me that I have a great relationship, a supportive family, a good financial situation and amazing friends, and I know all of that. I am so grateful. But being grateful doesn’t mean that I don’t have anxiety. I acknowledge that I am lucky and I know that other people are worse off than I am, but that doesn’t diminish how I feel and I’ve finally accepted that.

Anxiety is something I’ve always had and probably will always have. I just have to learn to deal with the anxiety. I’ve been trying to put things on lately and tell myself that I look beautiful and not to worry about what others think. But it’s a struggle and it’s something that requires constant reminding. I tell myself that my anxiety allows me to be a better person. It allows me more empathy for others, more hope that things will get better and the ability to improve myself.

From the outside, it may not appear that I’m dealing with anxiety. I try to present myself as okay to everyone else, because I don’t think that my anxiety defines who I am. It’s a part of me and I accept it, but there’s a lot more to me. I don’t feel sorry for myself either. I used to. But as I grew older I learned to embrace it, deal with it and move on to the rest of my life.

Basically, the reason I am writing this is to tell you that you’re not alone. Whether you have a mental illness or you know someone that does, you’re not alone. I tried for many years to hide my anxiety from people but lately I’ve become proud of it. You may believe that no one knows what you’re going through or that someone will judge you, and they might, but you also must realize that there are so many people who understand you. I’ve come to find that a lot more people in our world are good than bad. 


It's okay to be "barefoot" sometimes.