A stupid bank slip I had misplaced and that might have cost me my semester and possibly a whole year, has been a major cause of anxiety this past week. A bank slip ! A small piece of paper saying I paid my fucking fees for last semester!
And after going to multiple campus offices, visiting three different banks and ransacking my sister’s house twice, I finally found it in my other sister’s house- safely in an envelope with all my records from a past semester.
And I didn’t cry for joy when I got it.
My first thought was to carry it back to KU (Kenyatta University) and literally shove it down the throats of the assholes at the finance department. In fact, my sister and threw the envelope to the ground and angrily trampled on it like the silly people we are.
And then I picked it up and tucked it safely in my bag.
From then, going back to the KU finance department then to register my units, my ordeal took less than two hours to get solved and I was left in an angry daze afterwards. It went so easily downhill I almost asked the man at finance if he was serious, and was that truly all? And was he fucking sure this time?!
But he was polite unlike the others I had found before at that office- so I just smiled and walked away.
I’ve been a persistent fighter especially this past day or so and I have decided I don’t like it. The anxiety of emerging victorious, the grit of persistence, the adrenalin rush…I hate it all. By the end, when people celebrate, usually I’m just drained, and angry and I just want to lie down and wonder to myself why the fuck I have to struggle so much for something so fleeting.
And if I don’t reward myself with something to make me forget the whole issue altogether, it’s usually my first step down the stairway of finding life a useless cycle of stupid bothers and soon, depression.
I have leant however that I must always act where I am tempted to wait and imagine the worst outcome. I used to think that if I imagine the worst and the thought of it doesn’t suffocate me, then it means I’ll be fine no matter what. This is untrue. Reality has always proved less harsh than my imagination.
My imagination has been the cause of many of my depressive episodes and I must learn to rein in my thoughts. All things considered, I’m good at picking up the pieces and moving on so there’s really no need to worry and prep for a hundred outcomes that won’t even come to pass.
I must learn to rein in my thoughts.
I promised myself too, if I got through with the fees drama KU has put me through this past week, I will ask the woman at National Bank if she likes cake. And if she does, I would go get her some to say thank you. She was the only source of calm in my anxiety and I am grateful to her for not frustrating me like KU or Standard Chartered Bank did.