The Writing Desk of Jakebe Rabbit

One of the new podcasts I've picked up recently is Fear The Boot, this great gaming podcast that talks about aspects of role-playing in tabletop games, MMORPGs and other things. It's really a bunch of gamers who get along really well shooting the shit and offering their perspective on games both modern and...historical? They recently had this deep dive into one of the first D&D boxes that one of them found at a yard sale, and it was really interesting.

Their most recent set of podcasts talk about RPGs and mental health, and they're amazing. I'm all about talking openly about mental health issues in geek spaces, and it makes me so happy that other people are relating the experiences and perspectives that have shaped them. The gang talks about depression, anxiety and PTSD, offering perspectives that hadn't occurred to me before. One of the biggest things I took away revolves around talking to people who don't quite understand the irrationality of these things: if there were a legitimate cause for my depression or anxiety, it wouldn't be a disorder -- it would be a rational response to the things that are happening to me. The thing that makes depression and anxiety disorders is the outsized response they force us to make.

Since learning about my anxiety disorder last year, I've been trying to pay more attention to the anxiety responses within myself. They typically manifest as avoidant behavior; when I sit down to confront something that makes me anxious, my brain develops a Teflon coating that makes the task slide off until I focus on something else. This can happen with difficult issues at work, interpersonal communications (it's a big reason I'm so bad at email), or projects and hobbies I've given myself deadlines for.

This is especially bad with things that need to be done by a certain time. I get anxious about them, procrastinate, and feel guilty about not being productive. When I try to work on them again, I'm *more* anxious because I know that I've failed to work on it before and the deadline is even closer, so I can't take the pressure and procrastinate some more. I miss deadline after deadline, because the worry that I won't be able to perform this task perfectly freezes me until I just...don't do it.

I really hate that this prevents me from doing what I want to do, or being as present as I'd like to be with the folks that I know -- especially in difficult situations. I can be paralyzed by the desire to say the right thing or do the right thing; when it really matters what I say or do, the worry of doing the wrong thing is so strong. A lot of the time, it's irrationally strong; during normal things, where the consequences for mistakes aren't so bad, I still can't figure out how to move forward.

This feels like the result of a few things in childhood -- the fact that I was considered gifted when I was a kid and the expectation was to excel; the time when I misspelled a word during a spelling bee and my mother stopped coming to any of those competitions because "I always lose when she's there"; the stress of going to a really tough high school without learning how to work hard on anything I didn't get right the first time. When anything less than perfect is viewed as a disappointment through most of your primary education, you tend to develop a bit of a complex around these things.

I don't want to make this another "My mother didn't love me enough and it fucked me up" kind of posts, but...it's true. I know that this is a really common narrative in geek circles, and everyone navigates their way through and past it in different ways. But for me, the fact that I had no one who I felt loved me no matter what I did made it very difficult for me to accept myself for who I was. And when it comes to anything I do -- whether it's fixing a customer's problem or finding just the right order of words -- anything less than perfection is a disappointment, and disappointment can lead to abandonment and rejection. If I don't do things perfectly, I cannot be a person worthy of love. So it's better to do nothing than to make mistakes.

Of course this isn't healthy or productive, but the behavior has been ingrained within me beyond a rational point. Uncovering that rock to see what's there, then doing the difficult work of cleaning out the toxic self-talk, is one of those things that takes time and persistent effort. It also tends to happen in stages; cleaning it out might only enable you to see there's more there, more deeply ingrained, stuff that will be even harder to scrub out.

I am a fundamentally anxious person. I care about getting things right. While that's a reasonable impulse, the fear of getting things wrong is not. It's time to start working on that, which means leaning in to the things that make me uncomfortable, making mistakes and learning how to recover from them. I know that my husband loves me no matter what; I know that I have friends who support me no matter what; I know that no matter what, I am someone worthy of love and life. But there is some scared little child deep within me that believes none of these things, and it will take a lot of coaxing to change his mind.