Constant anxieties

I have a new job. It is less work, more responsibility, less hours and more directive than productive. As such, I am completely stressed and panicked out.

I'm spending so much time worried that I'm not doing the right job, or not doing a good enough job. Will I ever feel like I'm doing enough? Will I ever feel good enough?

This morning I was plagued with the idea that I was not doing a good enough job at work. I didn't respond to an email fast enough, I didn't get into the office fast enough, the client was going to be upset because I delayed the file uploads, etc. I get here and everything is fine. As usual, everything, despite what my mind wants to believe, is just fine. I'm being given a clear, specific role here (which is not what I thought I was given). I am being asked to take over responsibilities that the creative director had been managing, basically being his second-in-command in regards to packaging. All I have to do is sit back, relax, pay attention and don't get caught up in client drama or panic stations.

I get a lot of comments from others about what a strong work ethic I have. They have no idea. I don't actually have that strong of a work ethic. I have a deep-rooted, personal drive to avoid failure at all costs. Not living up to others expectations is so incredibly painful to me that just the thought that I might disappoint others drives me to triple-check every email, every word, every action. 

Why do I care so much what others think? I have always admired those who don't care what others think. They do what they want and don't apologise and don't agonise and are so much happier with their lives. I am trying so hard, every day to get to this point. To start doing what makes me happy without care or regard for how others might judge it. 

For example: I am terrified to read my kindle on the subway or bus. I only do so if I can hide what I'm reading from other's gaze. I don't do this because I'm ashamed of what I'm reading, but because I worry, constantly worry, about what others might think about me based upon what I'm reading. "Oh, she's reading Salman Rushdie. She's one of those people". Whatever that might mean. 

This morning I challenged myself to read my kindle despite the fact that I was standing in a tight crowd of commuters, many of whom could read easily over my shoulder and judge me. I decided that for today, so what if they thought I was "one of those people". Maybe I am one of those people. Those people who read and don't watch television and are intelligent. One of those people who is constantly reading so that she can maintain control of her dyslexia. One of those people who likes to know things and is excited with word play.

My therapist is trying to get me to make myself uncomfortable on a regular basis. I think the idea is that no growth comes if you don't challenge yourself. You have to make yourself uncomfortable if you're going to learn anything about yourself and grow from the experience. I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it and I love it because I keep pushing and keep trying and little by little I am seeing results. 

One day. One day I will not be plagued by these repetitive, obsessive, self-conscious worries. I wish it were today.