In those brief moments of clarity right after the Xanax kicks in, or right after the caffeine from that first cup of coffee flows straight through my veins, I truly and actually feel like everything will be all right. Unfortunately, those moments are brief, and for the rest of my day, and sometimes night, it is usually a constant battle in my head. The anxious thoughts escape from their pen at the back of my mind and slowly entangle themselves in my day-to-day thoughts.
What am I having for dinner? becomes: What does this feeling mean? Should I feel this way or that way? What did this interaction mean? What if this happens? Or that? Constantly taking my emotional temperature is debilitating. It robs me of my ability to live in the moment, the present. It also saps me of my energy, as it is mentally exhausting to constantly assure and reassure yourself all day that everything will be fine, and bring yourself back to the present.
Thankfully, these are only my days when my anxiety spikes. These spikes can last from a number of days to months. But once they are over, I only realize the spike has ended because my mind is suddenly quiet without the constant fight. It’s almost like the absence of city noises in the suburbs — surprising and so welcome. That’s when I get to feel “normal,” or what I assume people without anxiety feel. And it is glorious. I feel heartbroken because the way my brain is wired means this isn’t the status quo for my mind. But my mind finally feel settled at the same time, like I never had a demon in my head I needed to fight: myself.
In these moments, I hope and pray the anxiety has been quieted for good, forever, and I can count it as something I used to have. And yet, the day inevitably comes when life stressors — family, friends, relationships or even new and exciting stages of life — come about, and my anxiety sees an opportunity to try to sabotage me. Sabotaged by my own brain is really how I feel. I know rationally that the thoughts are my worst fears preying on my mind, and I can try to let them pass, because I might never be able to control them or eradicate them. The harder you try to erase the thoughts, the worse they become. It is a testament of will to have anxious thoughts, sit with them and let it pass by. To work hard and wait patiently until the spike passes.
To all those who read this and know exactly what I’m talking about — you’re not alone. I may not know you, but I know there is a community of us. We exist. We walk around like everyone else, secret battles raging in our minds. These battles will eventually pass, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t reach out a hand when you see the signs of someone struggling. Talk to that friend who looks overwhelmed; share your story, as scary as it may be. Your strength can become theirs, and together we can break the taboo.
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