The other day, I read on Time that one good way to cope with stress is to write it down. The article cited a study wherein a group of students were asked to keep a journal of what stressed them out at school. After a few weeks, those who did had a higher average compared with those who did not.
Probably that explains why I had better grades when I was in college. Or not.
Either way, I no longer care about college. I used to think that when you're good at school, success is guaranteed. But the world is an entirely new animal. The real world, I mean. It is not school -- or a class -- wherein you study well, ace the exam, impress in recitation, and get a recognition. It does not work that way in the real world.
In the real world, you work hard, wait for two weeks, check out the payroll, pay the bills. Repeat.
Or so it happens to adults stuck in a day-long job that is sometimes meaningful, oftentimes gratifying, always stressful, everyday repetitive.
Routine. Yes, that's how you call it.
For the past weeks, I've been having anxiety attacks -- or so I thought. I haven't googled yet what having 'anxiety attack' means clinically. But I have diagnosed myself as having such: worrying about the next months, imagining your fears happening in reality, asking why you are not getting what you want, questioning why it seems very easy for others to get what they want, feeling your dreams are too impossible to achieve. And so on and so forth.
Quite tired of it. In my emotion graph, the line is currently going up -- signalling a budding hope amid hopelessness. Probably I managed to convince myself to love my life a little more -- or try once again, at the very least -- because if I don't embrace it, nobody else will.
And yes, relax. The days go on. Life goes on.
And make a decision to never tire trying.