Dear Anxiety, You’re Wrong


Dear Anxiety,

You’re wrong. You are wrong when you tell me I am not valued. You are wrong on the days when I wake up and can’t think about anything but what could go wrong if I get out of bed. You are at your worst when you make me play with my fingers in an attempt to cope with a panic attack. When you are at your worst, you are the most wrong.

You’re wrong when you tell me I am not able to comprehend what is easily comprehensible to the rest of the world. You are wrong when you tell me my form of intelligence is not valued. You are wrong when you tell me nobody will want to wake up with me in the morning. You are wrong when the lump in my throat hurts so bad I have to place my arms around it while you mock me, while you tell me this is what I deserve and this is what I have gotten myself into.

You are wrong when you make me compare myself to my friends, wondering if everyone would like me more if I looked more like them. You are wrong when you tell me I won’t receive a college acceptance letter. You are wrong when you tell me I am second best.

You are wrong when you tell me what you tell me isn’t wrong, that it’s a truth I’m unwilling to accept. You are wrong when you tell me I don’t belong in my family. You are wrong when you tell me I could leave, and it wouldn’t make a difference. Most importantly, you are always wrong when you tell me I’m not exactly where I’m supposed to be because I am. I work every day, for 24 hours, fighting every thought you’re constantly streaming into my head. And that is never going to end.

You’re wrong because you’re not supposed to be here, but you are. Today, instead of believing you and letting you inside, I am pushing you out. You are wrong. You always have been, and you always will be. Today, I win.

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