Walking into a room, chin up, form-fitting clothes, flouncy hair, and a big smile, no one would ever suspect I deal with occasional anxiety on first impression. But anxiety isn't just for the shy or awkward. In fact, I bet your boss, one of your role models, best friends, or even you have experienced it. Anxiety gets a bad wrap. And, it's not always the most pleasant feeling. But what if you could wake up one morning and say, "I am successful and happy because of my anxiety!"? As a born-worrier, I've dealt with occasional anxiety through most of my life, even before I knew what it was. Since a young age I experienced sleepless nights where revved nerves made
All I can say is... whew! I put all my heart into this series and it's been one of the most gratifying projects I've done on Life in Spandex. Hearing how so many of you can relate and find comfort in my story is exactly why I decided to share it. It's never easy to put something so personal out there for public opinion. I can't thank you enough for your support! My parents have always told me, "Every hardship in life is a growing opportunity." I recognized this going into such a big life change and I ran with it. I left my doubts behind, put faith in the universe, and decided on the first day post split that
It hit me like a lightning bolt. I felt a tingling sensation rush through my toes, into my legs, up my spine, and into my eyes. Sprawled on my made bed, tears ran down my smiling cheeks. A moment of pure stability. I felt such an overwhelming sense of relief that I couldn't help but laugh. I was single. And, I was totally okay with that. During the third week post split, I started to find my independence. I became less reliant on the support of my friends and family, the pit in my stomach started to subside, and my anger towards him had diminished. I started to see the light at the end of the tunnel, I felt like myself again.
I pulled the blankets in closer, wiped the tears from my eyes, and realized I was alone. His belongings were gone and our contact was limited to business-like conversations about items he forgot in the apartment. Here it was, week 2 post-breakup aka the "Sad Burrito Phase." I spent a lot of time alone, curled up on the couch, wrapped tight in a blanket, feeling sorry for myself during the second week after our split. Yup, that's the "Sad Burrito." The anger had dissipated and I was left with a pit in my stomach every time I came home to an empty apartment. I wanted to eat, but nothing sounded good. I didn't want to be alone, but I didn't
F*ck him is the first thing I thought when I woke up to the unfamiliar feeling of being alone in my bed. Through an underlying sense of loss and immobilizing sadness, I felt a motivating sense of survival. I had a plan in mind to muffle my tears and fuel my anger. The day after the split I concentrated on one thing - get rid of any evidence of his existence. Unfortunately, my plan relied on his ability to remove his personal items - not an easy thing for him to do when he hadn't found a permanent residence yet. Once I accepted the fact that his trophies, shirts, and favorite snacks would be a semi-permanent part of my apartment