A Good Person

“I’m a good person, but with many defects.”

One of the biggest lies that my anxiety tells me is that I’m a bad person.

If I don’t speak and act perfectly, without any possible way of offending someone, my brain amplifies that and convinces me that I am no longer a good person because of it. If someone says something bad about someone else and I don’t stand up for that person, regardless of who it is, I feel as though I am allowing hatred to take place and the person being spoken about could get hurt. That person’s pain would then be my fault. That’s what my anxiety tells me, anyway. These situations make my anxiety spiral, even more so in situations where I am the one that has said something negative.

You’re not going to like everyone and not everyone is going to like you. Your words can’t always be perfect, and any time you speak you are going to offend someone. That doesn’t make you a bad person and it doesn’t make me a bad person. It makes us people.

It’s okay to speak your mind. That’s not to say that you should go around spreading rumors about the people you dislike the most or trash talking any person you don’t like. It means that you shouldn’t tiptoe over your every word for fear that telling your best friend you’re not a fan of Jane Doe’s new hair color makes you a terrible person. It doesn’t.

Sometimes I wish I could be one of those people that is confident in their opinions and thoughts and says screw what everyone else thinks. But I’m not. My anxiety won’t let me be. But I also feel like my anxiety makes me a better person in that way; it prevents me from saying things that I might regret or that could get me into trouble or create drama. I just wish that it didn’t set off my panic alarms over laughing at a controversial joke or commenting to my friend about a person’s outfit.

Anxiety is a menace. I’m a warrior.

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