I’ve been anxious my entire life. But I’ve been a wife for almost a year. Even before I got married, I had this feeling of not being enough. Because in my mind, anxiety told me he would only stay by my side if I were more beautiful, smarter and sexier, and that above all, I should be happier or at least pretend to be. Because no one likes sad and insecure people, right? But I recognize my luck, more than before, for still having him loving and caring and supporting me all the time. So why do I still hear what my anxiety says and all the bad things it makes me feel?
The answer is simple but tough to accept. Because deep down I know I am not like my anxiety and the lies it tells me. I know this, mainly, because this anxiety is not mine. All that is mine is this perception, this consciousness of truth. It is important to be able to separate what is mine and what generates from anxiety.
Even when I know what matters, I keep hearing those voices and believing them sometimes. There are several nights when I wake up thinking I am not a good wife and do not have what it takes to keep my marriage stable — also that I am not enough to satisfy my husband. So, I feel weak, nervous and powerless to do anything, thus leaving a void in our relationship. I end up fulfilling all my fears, and in this way, I fail not only as a woman to him but as a person to me. All I do at these times is apologize and cry.
But I am a human being, like everyone. I have many faults, and I am far from perfect. I’m a good wife and friend. I worry about what he needs, what he feels, what he wants, and I try to provide everything necessary for him to feel happy. I hear his fears and longings even when I am distressed and my soul is hurt. I often put him on top of everything when I need to be the priority. If this is not being a good wife, then I do not know what is necessary for me to be one. Everything in relationships needs to remain in reciprocal values. When things are in constant balance we get a taste of perfection.
At this point, I try to believe in myself, even though it seems impossible sometimes. I pray every day that this mental disorder won’t be my ruin and that I can always try to overcome myself day after day. May the tears disappear, and if it is not so simple, may I may be strong enough to accept my condition and let the tears fall without guilt. That “I’m sorry” won’t be the only thing I can say. My husband accepts me as I am, and he always says it’s OK not to be OK. So, there is no reason for me to think differently and prefer to isolate myself from the world when I have someone who values me and wants to help me. The secret is to look within ourselves, listen to our hearts and know that what is in our mind is not always the absolute truth.
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Thinkstock photo by ravald