Why am I so anxious?
The cycle of life goes like this:
When I still lived with my parents, I had a threshold for how far I could get out on my own. Of course, I have physical issues as an excuse, but the point is even if I didn’t have those physical issues I know deep down I’d still have reached the same threshold.
Fastward to now and I’m a similar predicament. I no longer live with my parents. I live in a flat, I have done about 2012. Once again I have a reached a threshold about how far I can get on my own. This time… I have a bit less of an excuse because I have a powerchair now that can get me to A to B. But further proving my issue is much more than a physical mobility problem it’s a mental one. Because if I wanted to, I could go out in my chair, catch a bus and go into town and grab a bus back. Yet I just can’t seem to do it. I can go to the local shop around the corner, but that is as far as I can get.
I don’t actually show much anxiety outwardly. And I don’t really know what I’m anxious about exactly. It seems I’m worried about everything and nothing.