Reading back through this all its quite depressing stuff and hardly inspirational. Over the period of 2-3 years with anxiety my mood has become very dark as hope fades at each turn. I am well versed in moping about and pondering on the ills of my life and more so the ills I predict will come my way. That is my life. I wake, I fear, the day drags, I go to bed and finally peace comes with sleep, eventually- sometimes. It is a monotonous existance.
It is also an existance of my own making. I point the finger at everyone except myself. I created this world. Anxiety propelled me here. The fear of unknowing brought me where I am but I chose to lie down and stay. My legs are too weak to leave and this "haven" although a nightmare is all I have known so I cannot bare to leave. This is my doing.
Now I see a new horizon. I must grasp the day. I must put myself right in the thick of it instead of curling up into a ball hoping it will go away. It won't go away. I am the one who must shape a new day.
