Anxiety Ridden

When you struggle with anxiety, as I do, there are good times and bad times. The good times are when you feel impregnable and empowered, like nothing can hurt you. When it comes to anxiety these can be subtle things, like when you miss your exit on the freeway and your heart doesn’t start racing and panic doesn’t creep into your brain. It’s those moments that make you stop and wonder, “Where the hell is my anxiety?” These moments feel amazing, because you actually start to feel a little normal. You start to feel like maybe you can finally beat your anxiety, however, its tricky little thing, because at the snap of a finger it can slam back into you, and totally knock you off your feet. These are the bad times. When it catches you off guard and you’re totally unprepared. Those moments that make you turn on your heels, and sprint down the hall, back to safety. I had one of those moments today.

A month ago, I thought I had finally kicked anxiety’s ass. It had seemed to have totally disappeared from my mind. It felt great at first to be functioning almost normally, and not to be constantly looking over my shoulder. I felt strong and invincible, and honestly a little weird. It was a sort of feeling like when your parents decide it’s time to take away your pacifier. You don’t really miss it that much, but you feel like something is missing. It was like someone had ripped away my security blanket that I had been hiding from the world under for so long. It was a strange sensation that I was finally starting to get used to when…

Side note: a year ago I had a huge falling out with half of my friends that I have regretted every day since. It wasn’t totally my fault, but about 90% if it was me and my sick, depressed, anxiety ridden brain. Although that is not an excuse for my actions. I was supposed to go in and say hi to them with two of the friends I still have. I was there. Right outside the door, ready to go in. When suddenly about four distinct voices rang out of the room, one of them being my old friend “let’s call her Tamara” who I am still so afraid of. I felt overwhelmed by anxiety, and turned around and ran and then hid under my bed like a two year old. But while I sit there crouched into a ball in the dark ignoring my phone, I couldn’t help but wonder, why me?

Why was I cursed with this stupid brain filled with anxiety and depression and sadness? Why was my head so much more screwed up than everyone else’s? And most of all, why is it so much easier for some people so go out and be social and have everyone like them, when I can barely walk down the hall without being terrified of someone seeing me? Why can’t I be social and well liked? Instead, I hide behind a mask of superiority and arrogance and push away just about everyone that gets too close. It’s so frustrating to want to change who you are, but still not be able to. When will my time come to feel accepted and wholesome? When will the darkness that is constantly clouding my brain finally be gone?

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