Repressed Emotions

I’ve noticed myself doing all sorts of things lately to cover up my anxiety. Smoking, over-eating, watching videos online, going out for walks. It feels like madness even more so lately because I don’t have friends which are available to hang out with. The situation has exiled me to this apartment with a very limited budget.

I identify my feeling first as ‘boredom’, but really it is un-ease, anxiety. I feel it in my arms and chest. It’s like this nervous energy being pent up inside of me. I feel a craving in my stomach, even though I have already ate.

I need to hold onto this money I have, because I don’t have a job. I need to save it for tolls and parking so that when I go for a job interview I don’t get hit with fines and fees. I cannot help to feel anxious and then justify spending money on something that will possibly make me content with my life in the moment. I hate this cycle. I just keep spending a little bit by little bit, then I see how much I’ve spent and I beat myself up over it. This doesn’t help. Still after all the searching, and hunting for something to do, I have a lingering anxiety, plus the fear that I won’t have that money available when I need it.

Spiritualists say that I’m in my head too much, so much energy in my head. It makes sense. I almost feel tired of thinking so much. I constantly think about what to do next, what to do next, what will make me happy, oh this, oh that…It’s madness!!

I should be able to just sit here, meditate, or something. I don’t find myself doing that. I find myself continuing this cycle of trying to find something to satisfy me, and all I do is just run away from this anxiety. It’s pointless. I’ll never win…I’ll just keep running all my life or learn to get rid of this unease…this dis-ease. The shitty thing is that I know that it’s possible to experience the anxiety, to dig into it and find out what emotions are responsible for it. But I just resist doing it. I have a room mate that is here right now, so I can’t be loud expressing anger or sadness. But when he’s gone I still end up doing other things.

I think I’m going to start writing about my past…like a sort of discursive auto-biography. I’ll start out chronologically, but I’m not going to confine it to that. It’s going to be everything that is associated with any fear based emotion. Childhood to the present.