What am I without anxiety? That’s a good question…
As I sit here and ponder that thought, I think of a life without my mental illness, a life where I am strong, inspired, empowering, kindhearted, honest and a wonderful mother.
Am I not all of those things now?
People’s kind words tell me I am. I thank them with a half hearted smile, thinking to myself if only they could see the weak and angry monster I see. If only they knew the fears that go along with waking up every day, how the simplest of tasks can become a terrifying nightmare.
I ask myself, “Why not show them my monster?”
The world can be cruel. Not everyone understands mental illness. I’m afraid of the cold whispers that would leave their lips. “She’s not all there, she’s sick, she could snap at any moment, she’s crazy, why haven’t they locked her up?” Such harsh words spit out of the mouths of those who don’t understand, so I decide to keep the monster in the home it created in my head.
“Could it really be that bad?” I hear them ask.
Imagine every moment of every day being fully indulged in fear… It’s dark outside late at night, and I see a black strange car with no lights on pull slowly up my street out my window. My monster takes over: “Must be a someone coming to harm you,” and an instant play-by-play of these horrible things happening go off in my head. My body runs cold while sweat spills from every pore, my hands shake ferociously, my heart pounds so hard I feel it in my toes, and I’m frozen, barely able to breath.
The smallest of things can feed my monster in another situation. I’m cooking dinner for my family and I hear them chatting quietly. The television is on for background noise. I am caught up in the moment of the happiness my home holds at the moment, and so the soup boils over on the red hot burner, creating a smoke and steam rising from the stove. “Smell that? Something’s burning, no one else smells it, you must be having a stroke,” my monster tells me. My head spins. I float out of my body, my hands tingle, my heart races. My son! “What will happen to my son if I hit this cold kitchen floor?” I ask myself in a panic while feeling I have no control over the answer. The world stops for a moment. My monster lets me feel every bit of its painful attack before I hear my son call my name and I’m brought back to reality — just long enough to await its next strike.
I know the stories my monster tells me are blown out of proportion. They’re always stronger than reality. Despite my best efforts to listen to the logic, the monster finds a way to seep through the cracks. Every day I wake up and wait for the innocence of my daily tasks to be taken over by that cruel monster.
“Why don’t you just tell it to leave?” you ask.
I want to. So badly. Every day I wake up and tell myself today is the day I slay the monster once and for all. I silence the monster’s worrisome voice and as a twisted punishment for doing so it sends me into a cool sweat, shaking hands, heart racing, tingling running through my overheating body. I am exhausted and mentally drained. Lack of sleep, nightmares and the constant skipping of meals from being nauseated by the attacks the monster brought on the night before. My mind is strained and fuzzy from fighting this horrific monster alone in my head. My body aches, my eyes are heavy, my hair is left greasy from last night’s pool of sweat. I am worn thin, barely a person some days. I want so badly for it to leave. I tell myself every day that I will overcome this hideous monster. I have faith and love, and that is what I need to fuel my strength in the quest to cage the monster my anxiety has become.
How am I going to mange the fear and the questions?
Well, you see, I was once told, “You are still you no matter your mental state. All of the tiny pieces you’re made of will still be in tact once the anxiety is under control.” It is still me who loves to watch my son play with his toys, who loves the giggles he lets seep out as he talks to his dinosaurs. My heart sings when he sings me his sweet little songs made up of bits of the songs I enjoy singing him on a daily basis. It is still me who loves to go for long walks with my friends and laugh about each other’s stories. Those smiles we share are lit from the happiness in my heart. It is still me who loves to sit at home on cold winter nights in my fuzzy pajamas watching girly movies with my mom, cracking jokes about our own encounters similar to those in the movie. It is still me who loves the late night snuggles with my husband while we indulge in each other’s simplicity. Those are the moments I strive for the happy laughs instead of the fake ones, the proud tears instead of the ones cause by sadness, the funny stories instead of the fearful ones.
Every day I remind myself I am in this moment right now. I have to live my days moments at a time. My anxiety is not the only part of me. It took me a long time to believe that. It was not easy. I still have days where I’m battling the monster for my mind. I give it my all every day because I am that strong, inspiring and kindhearted person! I am that wonderful mother. I know that when I look at my son, see the smile on his face and the amazement in his eyes. Anxiety can be a terribly horrifying monster and others may not understand what I go through every day. But I have hope. I need to keep inspiring people around me and doing the things I love.
What am I without my anxiety?
I am me and proud to be.
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