Things never turn out as badly as you expect them to. At least, that is what my mother always says and, well, mums are always right, aren’t they?
In all seriousness, though, there is so much truth in the statement that our worries are invariably overblown and disproportionate to the situation in question. If you struggle with anxiety, you will be all to familiar with worry - depending on where you are on your journey to recovery, it can be either all-consuming or something that makes an unwelcome appearance once in a while. The fear of the unknown, of uncertainty, lies at the heart of anxiety disorders. It is, after all, a primal human instinct which has evolved over centuries.
On a personal level, I have been struggling with my anxiety for the past couple of days. I’m starting a course at my local college tomorrow (2 November) and, though I can recognise my worries are irrational, they are still impacting my quality of life. The anticipation, the build-up, is the worst part.
Why am I so sure about this? How do I know my intrusive thoughts and catastrophic thinking are bullshitting me? For precisely the reason I gave at the beginning of this blog - things never turn out as badly as you think they will. They just don’t, and I could fill an entire blog with examples to lend credence to this.
We often fear the worst, imagining in our heads situations and outcomes that could happen, perhaps to prepare ourselves if our imagined worst-case scenario should occur. But doing this serves no purpose other than to stress ourselves out still further - we cannot predict the future, so we should divert our attention away from worrying and onto something altogether more positive and meaningful.
I always experience high anxiety when I go to the barbers, and my last trip proved no exception. I could feel the butterflies, the perspiration, the tightness in my chest as I made my way to the salon for my mop-chop. And how did it go? Brilliantly, actually. Quite apart from the very snazzy trim I received (befitting of a well-established, well-respected salon), I enjoyed a fun, laughter-filled chat with my hairdresser and felt completely at ease as we light-heartedly discussed a range of (casual) topics. I even got complimented on my trainers.
You’ll probably see the point I’m trying to make here. The contrast between the fear and apprehension leading up to taking a seat in the barber’s chair, and the actual experience, was, if not night-and-day, then extremely pronounced.
And there is no reason at all why this should not be replicated tomorrow evening. Oh sure, the anxiety will be there no matter how hard I try and rationalise the situation. And regardless of how many times I read and re-read my own blog, my head will still be occupied by ‘what-if?’ thoughts. But I am sure it will go just fine, and I am sure I will actually enjoy it. Because, like my mum says, things never turn out as badly as you expect them to.
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