anti-reticent

I am damaged.
yes, I know, everyone is in some way. but the thing that is hard for me is letting go of the bandages and seeing how much I've healed. there's still a barrier between me and, well, everyone else. when I find someone that I think I can trust, that I think wouldn't hurt me, I begin to doubt myself.
the "what if"s start creeping into my brain. they dig holes in my reality and what I feel and I stop believing that good things can happen to me. I feel myself shrinking beneath my skin. I have to push myself not to retreat entirely. being vulnerable is terrifying.
my biggest anxiety has always been feeling like I'm making the wrong choice and people will think that I'm stupid. despite everything in my life, despite all that I have done and all that I have been through, I am still terribly concerned with how people view my choices. I don't care too much what they think about my appearance, but I care what they think about my decisions. I'm not even sure who "they" are. some nameless mass of people that are always lurking, waiting to disapprove? I don't know. I think they're just my doubt. they don't really exist.
one of my favorite bands has this song whose lyrics I occasionally quote to myself: "there are only two real extremes in any given situation: love and death." sometimes thinking that helps. sometimes it just bums me out.
but I guess what I'm getting at here is that I'm scared. I'm scared I'll fuck up, or that I'll get fucked up, or any of a number of things. I know I need to let go of the fear but sometimes it's easier to hold onto it than it is to feel nothing. right now I have an overload of emotions and when that happens, it turns into white noise and leaves me feeling empty.
try to deal with these things one at a time. try to deal with the stress of school, and my ever-changing living situation, and then some more stress of school from the incompletes I still have, and trying to keep up with my friends, and trying to keep up with my family, and just the things that I feel like other people are able to deal with without much thought at all. I talked to Bones the other day and she said that she still rewards herself for the small victories. the things that other people take for granted. when I complete an assignment ahead of time, that's a small victory. when I get to work early, that's a small victory. when I make a phone call to my psychiatrist, that's a small victory. when I remember to write back to someone, that's a small victory.
things aren't as bad as they used to be, in my head.
talking to Fig at night makes me feel better. when I wake up in the morning, I am happier. during the day I think about him and, for the most part, I am content. it's not the physical distance that makes things difficult. the older I get, the less that matters. it's the not-knowing how things will be in person. just because we spent a pleasant, albeit awkward, couple of minutes talking in person a year ago, and have spent the past year emailing each other, doesn't guarantee success. what does, though? nothing. I hate having such a peculiar attraction to small things, sometimes. because they can be what break me.
it's so strange when the world feels right and wrong for the same reasons.