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The life of an overthinker…

Fact – I overthink too  much and it’s ruining my life.

Once upon a time there was a little girl, who didn’t know how to deal with loss, so she didn’t deal with at all. She cried herself to sleep and wrote letters going nowhere. She felt sadness so deeply that she could never properly let it go. It was always there, just hidden in a book that she thought she didn’t need to read. How wrong she was.

A few years passed by and she thought she was healed, even if she never was. She didn’t feel quite so sad anymore, but more numb, for such emotions were too much to deal with. So, she lived happily, in a state of blissful denial, for a while at least.

When she lost someone else she loved dearly, she felt lost again, as if she was still the same little girl. This time she cried more, but as the tears flowed, so did the thoughts she couldn’t deal with. She didn’t want to feel the emotions she had locked away for so long, but how could she not, when this was her reality.

She spent too much time by herself, which gave her mind the chance to overthink. She overthought everything…her mistakes, her fears, but worst of all, her regrets. She had said fleeting goodbyes to both of her grandparents, but not when it truly mattered, not before it was too late.

Last year, she understood the permanence of death, of losing someone she had loved dearly, but that didn’t help, it only made everything worse.

It started to make her ill, as she started to lose control of who she was, and the future she had dreamed of. But I would like to think this story has a happier ending.

I would like to think that even though she could’ve hidden from the world once again, she finally accepted that she needed help. After all, how could she move forward in life, when the past was always holding her back?

The end.

***

I wrote this as a narrative but it is far from fiction, it’s my life.

Everyone overthinks at some point in their life, but when it becomes all consuming, that’s when it becomes a problem. When I started blogging I was a much happier person than I am now. In August 2014 my Grandma hadn’t passed away and I thought I was dealing with my worry. However, when I experienced loss once again, I struggled to cope and it started to make me ill. I didn’t want to accept that my grief, and anxiety, was controlling my life, even if that meant I couldn’t properly heal.

This blog post is one step closer to accepting everything I have tried to ignore for so long. I’ve finally realised the importance of self-care, and I hope that you do too.

Until next time keep dreaming x

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