I’ll start by admitting this – I’m. Absolutely. Terrified.
Anyone who knows me would think this is ridiculous, because I’ve always been really open about my struggles with depression and anxiety. I don’t hide the fact that I take meds or see a psychiatrist, and have even been known to call it “owning my crazy”.
But the thought of putting it all down here, in a blog that people I don’t know can read, scares the hell out of me.
Maybe it’s because I’m not really a big fan of people in general. Crowds scare me. I guess I always feel a little removed from the party. A little awkward and out of place. Like I either stand out like a sore thumb or blend into the woodwork. My nasty little voice inside always launches into a spiel on how I’m not good enough. Or smart enough. Or pretty enough. And don’t I know that they’re all judging me?!?!?!
I missed out on most of my last year of high school because I woke up one morning, got dressed, and couldn’t put my shoes on. That’s it. Just couldn’t do it. The simple act of trying caused tremendous anxiety, and later led to debilitating panic attacks. That’s really where my journey started. Since then it’s been doctors and meds and coping skills. It’s been panic attacks and dropping out of college (twice!) and messy relationships. But it’s also been running my own business and buying a house and becoming a runner. And finding people who love me, finding out who I am and finding some kind of balance. And lately, it even seems to be finding some kind of peace with my illness and my surroundings and well…just with me.
For years I’ve been content to just kind of hang out around the edges. Well, not any more. I resolved to make this year the year of doing things that scare me. The year of no fear. I’m 35 years old (when the hell did THAT happen?) and I’m finally going to start putting myself out there. I’m going to stomp that nasty little voice into oblivion by doing things that I’ve always been too afraid to do. Applying for the chance to write this blog was number one on that list of things…and hey, it worked out just fine.
About Jessica Wilson
My name is Jessica Wilson, I’m 35 years old and single. The single is (mostly) by choice, the 35 is not. I am mom to 5 furbabies, have become an avid runner, and own and operate a small business. I’ve been dealing with mental illness for as long as I can remember. I was diagnosed with clinical depression and anxiety in my early 20’s, and continue to struggle with it or manage quite well, depending on the day. It very obviously runs in my family – my grandmother was bipolar, and mental illness can be traced back at least 3 generations on my maternal side, in various forms.