The Horror Movie of My Anxiety and Depression
Well, hello. I live with depression and anxiety. Yes, these words are already so common they probably no longer have any impact on who’s reading them. They would have almost no impact on me, weren’t for the fact that I live with them every day. These are just words that designate emotions we all feel at some point in our lives; it’s no wonder you don’t feel shocked or surprised. They’re so recurrent nowadays you may feel almost tired of listening about it. You may feel you already understand the point, right?
I feel tired too. I feel tired of living like this. More than tired, I feel desolated. I feel pain and panic, hopelessness and despair. I don’t see a way out, and it hurts every day. Because I live in fear of suffering – I fear new places, I fear old places, I fear others and I fear myself. I’m constantly afraid about horrible things happening. I live my life in fear, and I don’t even understand why. The only reason I still maintain any of my mental health is by knowing this can get better, that this is really all in my head, that what I’m thinking is not real. This isn’t me.
And then I cry again. I’m crying right now, not because something horrible happened to me but because I hate what I’ve become. Desolation, pain, panic, hopelessness, despair, anguish. Again, these are only mere words. Unfortunately I can only speak through words, but I’d love for you to really see what I mean because words are not enough anymore; they don’t do it justice. They are so frustrating, so limited.
If you saw a movie about my life it would be the most boring movie ever. Nothing happens, nothing really terrible ever happens, and everything is normal. However if you saw the movie going on in my head it would be of horror — the kind of horror that wouldn’t allow you to sleep for days and would change the way you see the world. This changed me. It changes me every day until I find myself in the middle of moments where I don’t recognize who this person is anymore. A lot of times during panic attacks I don’t know this person terrorized by the idea of entering a train. Or assisting a class. Or going to the movies. I don’t understand her, I don’t know why she reacts like this. It doesn’t make any sense. But then it’s me. It’s almost funny, like a plot twist in a David Fincher movie. It really is me.
And that’s the real horror – living in the shoes of someone I fail to recognize and have started to hate. I search for what’s left of me every day because I know, underneath the panic and the crying, the fear, the shortness of breath, the sweat, the head and stomach aches, the heart beating so loud I can barely listen to my own thoughts, I’m still here. I’m curled up, for I don’t have a lot of space for being. But I know I’m here.
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Thinkstock photo by luvemak photo