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Limits

"What have you done over the summer?"
"Nothing much, I haven't been well."
"Anxiety?"
This is a conversation I had the other day with someone I haven't known for a particularly long time, neither do I know him particularly well. It frustrated and mildly upset myself. Am I so predictable that when I'm ill people automatically assume it's my mental health?
I have always said that I won't let my mental illnesses, particularly my anxiety disorder, get in the way of my life. I thought I was doing well during my first year at university, especially since I was going to therapy. But, looking back on it, anxiety dictated a lot of what I did. I missed out on a lot of social events and extracurricular activities I was genuinely interested in. I let my anxiety react far too hard to situations, leading to multiple crying sessions in the library (crying in my space of education was something I swore to give up after secondary school). When applying for the auditor position I am so grateful to have, I had to start by apologising for being absent for the year, because I was ill. And while I loved my first year, I can see that anxiety had effected me enough for friends I had only met to take notice.
I have accepted that with anxiety, there comes limits. My brain is not like the majority, and I have accepted that. I have also accepted that with my disorder, comes with limits that others don't necessarily have. The problem is figuring out those limits. Am I responsibly keeping within my limit so I don't break down beyond function, or is anxiety preventing me from gently pushing my limits? It's really hard to tell, especially when those around you express their fears that I'm pushing my limits too hard.
I honestly don't know which of these is true.
Though, I'm determined to push a limit that always scared me. I am nineteen and have never had a paid job. That's not to say I've never worked (I worked voluntarily in a charity shop and sanctuary) or that I haven't tried (I have but I live in the Irish countryside), but I didn't want to work during uni last semester, and my parents didn't want me to either. I have always been afraid that it will be too much. That I won't be able to cope. And that was it.
Anxiety has a way of making you underestimate yourself. I think. I'm going to try and work. Because if everyone else can do it, why can't I? Even if my brain is a bit different. I'm going to push those limits.



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