Opening up about my Anxiety
Anxiety does not have a face, but I am what having this disorder looks like.
It’s not always super obvious. I’m happy today is a good day… but it’s not always a good day.
I’ve had anxiety attacks so bad I thought I would die.
I had an episode where I had three panic attacks in a row. I had to call 988 because I couldn’t calm down, even though I wasn’t planning on harming myself. After a bit, even that didn’t help.
I’ve inconsolably cried in the shower more than times than I count.
I’ve gotten lost in my mind many times, and I’ve found Chester Bennington’s description of his head being a bad neighborhood to be painstakingly accurate.
My emotions are big and very hard to get a handle on when I get too upset. Holding back tears when you cannot cry in public is incredibly difficult.
My mind has told me I am too much for people, but also that I will never be enough.
On the surface: I have everything .
A good support system of friends and family.
Learning to be a child of God in the Christian faith again.
A nice home.
Good grades that have gotten me on the President’s List many times.
Connections to my community.
People who love me.
But sometimes that is not enough… because my anxiety tells me I am not enough.
Here is what people don’t see unless I tell them:
I am in therapy for a third time.
I have felt rejected and unloved in times when I have rarely been more loved.
Anxiety wants me to be silent and alone when I long for connections with people.
I have felt alone when surrounded by people I care for and that care for me back.
It makes even the mere perception of rejection almost impossible to handle.
I’ve felt like I don’t belong with anyone or anything, even when I do.
Putting myself out there can be harder than it should be.
Romance feels downright hopeless.
That I have no chance with guys who are out of my league, so I hardly ever talk to them.
Sometimes, I have rejected myself so I can beat those guys to the punch.
It has convinced me of awful things that were not true, that awful things were going to happen.
It has ruined things that were meant to be fun.
I will pick myself apart over anything.
I struggle to find motivation, especially when a task seems too overwhelming.
Sometimes that is doing an assignment.
Sometimes that is getting up to brush my teeth when I am tired.
Sometimes it’s prayer and reading my Bible.
I avoid things to remain comfortable, until finding that comfort is impossible and I have to do it.
I have lost respect for myself on many occasions.
For someone with such a big ego, I have a lot of self-loathing I am trying to overcome.
I have wanted nothing more at times than to disappear.
I have wished that I had never been born.
Life is too overwhelming sometimes, and I can’t always handle it.
I am medicated, but that has presented its own set of challenges as the BusPIRone and Hydroxyzine can make me tired.
That makes it harder to get through the day.
No matter what though…
I am trying my best.
I am being myself.
I am trying to live a life of prayer and servitude.
But I am not perfect.
I have a lot of bad habits and my sleep schedule is terrible.
I am not good at self-care.
But I am trying, and I refuse to give up on myself again.
I want to keep growing and learning.
I can do hard things, even when I kick, scream, complain, and break down.
My monsters wear my skin and look at me through my eyes, but they do not define me.
I have anxiety, sadness, loneliness, and bitterness
But they do not have me.