To the Person Concerned: Here's What You Should Know About My Anxiety and Depression
You may have noticed I have recently not been acting “like myself,” as they say. You may also have noticed my ability to function in any and all social situations has greatly declined. I may have told you at some time in person, through Facebook posts or by means of my reaction to something. This is because I have decided I no longer want to put up with any bullshit. Taking the “f**k it” approach to life and its inexplicable war on us.
This is not entirely true.
You see, the things I’ve been saying and doing are not me. This may seem like I’m trying to excuse my behavior, but I assure you it’s not what I’m trying to do. I am merely trying to explain my side in order for you to get a better understanding of what is happening to me.
I have been lumped with depression and anxiety, two constant companions. These companions of mine refuse to allow me to function as I did before. They refuse to allow me a single positive thought and thrive on my hatred and self-loathing. Once they have achieved this, they continue their pressure on me until I cannot fathom my existence, until I can no longer see the people who care for me, until I can only see and hear how unimportant and wholly negative my presence is in your life. This causes a third companion to rear its dark head, making me spiral into a deep, dark chasm of hate and loathing.
My companions are called depression, anxiety and anger.
They are the voices in my head clamoring to be heard. They are loudly proclaiming who I am. All I can do is listen because some days I don’t have the strength to fight them. Some days, I’m vulnerable and unable to stand up to them and say, “I matter. I am not a loathsome piece of shit that brings pain and irritation to people around me.” Some days they convince me and I have to accept the battle is lost and I will come back and fight the next day. I lose hope at times and it’s hard for me to regain it, because I am unable to see the point.
I understand this is frustrating for you. It frustrates you when I say life would be better for everyone if I ceased to exist. I know you don’t know what to do when I’m clawing at my chest for air in the throes of a panic attack or what to do when I grow quiet and broody at other times when the panic sets in. I know my dark companion makes no sense to you because I can’t explain the soul-crushing feelings that it invokes.
But I do ask you this: Please, be patient. I am trying. I am fighting. Sometimes I lose. It’s a terrible blow to suffer because they taunt me and remind me death is my only option. Forgive me when I’m quiet, say the wrong things or allow my disease to creep into your bones.
I can offer you no more. Be patient. I’m trying harder than you could ever understand.
From somewhere inside my shattered mind