My mom says anything new, whether it’s bad or good, makes me panic. I think she’s the only person living who knows how actually insane I am—if anyone else knows, they’re concealing it, politely—so I give her feedback my absolute belief. And even she fills in whatever she doesn’t know or doesn’t understand about my craziness with a good deal of unwarranted generosity, so her guess probably falls a little short still: probably “panic” is not the right word—probably it’s more like “disintegrate”.
I think it’s how I am at this point. I can see the Formative Influences in my early life, I can see the habit along which I move in these states. But I think this might just be one of those aspects of personality I’ve got to work around. At least for now.
Something new happens, I fall completely to freakout pieces, I broil in pieces for a while, then I come back together and zoom ahead. That’s just the way it goes. What I need is to recognize that it’s happening. Maybe I can lessen the suffering a little bit somehow.