No big surprise, but I’ve been battling anxiety as defined by a psychologist and psychiatrist since high school but for me personally it’s been suffocating me my whole life. Anxiety is from my perspective another word that they throw around that just tags alongside depression. Anxiety just sounds like worry and being scared and it doesn’t sound debilitating. It has become very normalised in today’s society. I can respect that there are more and more people being diagnosed, but for the people that aren’t suffering a mental health issue, it’s seen as a ‘label’ for a little bit of ‘stress’. Label though. Important.
Label that other people bring onto themselves to express an exaggeration of their emotional state. Sorry to say, but I know that people do that we can all be guilty sometime or anther of doing that.
But it’s a label to me though that I want to burn, that I would do anything to get rid of. A small label with a huge impact to my life- my life without such label would be wonderful. It could have been wonderful. It would have been everything.
Off track, so my anxiety is something I’m learning to seperate from myself. Almost give it another name, so that it can no longer be associated with me. Because the more that I allow myself to believe that anxiety is apart of me, the more I believe my mind will always remain this sick and the wonderful person inside wont be able to come out anymore.
Every day I write, trying to understand my mind, and the mind of my anxiety. I write about how I know it’s silly, but then how my emotions show I’m in pain that the pain feels real. I write how I know this disappears sooner or later, but that I still can’t think past anxieties thoughts. I write how frustrating it is to ignore anxiety, and almost like human, how it increases in retaliation, getting worse and worse, testing me when everything seems to be perfect. I write because its crazy to hear it with a normal mind what I’ve listened to, what I believed, what I’ve cried for, what I’ve missed out on because of, what I’ve stopped eating for, what I’ve lost people for and what I learn to hate myself for. A 20 year old girl with a voice in her head that says
life is too hard
this is too much
how will you get through this
you can’t get through this
why am i so weak
why can’t i deal with this
this is normal
why cant i make a decision
i’m so scared
I wont get through this week
how will i get through this year
how can i be happy
to an increase panic of:
what if even though everything is okay now, tomorrow everyone see’s me for what I am and they leave me.
what if really no one cares
what if really people stick with me only because they don’t want to leave me, to hurt me.
what if i was no longer here would i be missed
what if people laugh at me
what if I’m a bad friend
what if I have no purpose
to an irrational..
what if i spend $50 on a dress, I can’t do that, I don’t have a job – money is important – money shouldn’t be abused – I don’t deserve a nice dress – it wouldn’t look nice on me anyway – i need to lose weight –
then a conclusion of..
theres no reasons for people to really like me
and theres a reason I have so little friends
and theres a reason why boys don’t talk to me
– i give up
All in the course of 5 minutes. All while I’m sitting on the couch or going for a walk or driving home. All while life goes on around me and everyone is on mute- on pause while anxiety talks to me, letting me know how things really are. Letting me in on what’s ‘the truth’. All because of one small trigger but usually it comes from nothing at all. Ending not with words of insult, but questions, because by that point, I give up, I give in. All while I know this is a voice, but that sometime, this voice makes sense, and if one thing adds up, then maybe the next does, and the next and the next. And it’s hard to seperate myself from this person, or this thing inside my head, the irrational anxiety. But I’m trying, maybe not hard enough, but I don’t like it and I’m sorry for sharing that, that you have to see me in days where it consumes me. Because I wouldn’t like me them days, I wouldn’t know what to do and I would feel like giving up and it’s okay to. I’m sorry because I’m an okay person without it and maybe one day it will let me go.
And people ask me or people question anxiety, and this is part one.