The thing about my anxiety is, it creeps. It slithers up my ankles, itching the backs of my knees, creates knots in my back and tangles in my tummy, it makes my fingertips tingle, my temples throb, and my brain spin. And then it reaches around into my ear and laughs. It laughs because i sit there helplessly wondering what just happened to start this whole thing and sometimes i just don’t know. Or it laughs because sometimes it decides to burrow and make itself at home for days at a time while every noise makes me jump and while other’s people’s comments send me reeling. i worry about everything i say or do during those days, terrified to feel the creeping.
i can feel it in my shoulder blades right now. Tightening muscles as it moves. Brain in full spin. And, sure, i can name little things that may have started the whole thing but i don’t know what started the ready to disappear, want to curl up, crying hysterically, ready to be done with this shit anxiety.
Maybe it’s the fact that every time i have to talk about my family. . . the real ones, not the chosen. i feel sick. And that makes me feel like a failure because they are supposed to be out of my life but clearly they still have such power over me. Power i’m not sure how to take back. Because it’s one thing to physically walk away and it’s another to get that out of your head. And i feel like even more of a failure because i suck at talking in the first place. then throw in feeling physically ill and like i’ve fucked up because i can’t get these people out of my head or take back the power they have over me. And i’m ready to just shut down completely. i have yet to win in that situation which makes me dread it. And that makes it this vicious cycle that i can’t seem to get out of.
Maybe it’s just a matter of repetition and seeing that i can get through these conversations. And with each conversation comes more power back in my hands. i don’t know if that’s how it works. Maybe it could? Maybe it could lead to days and weeks of feeling like shit and wondering if i’ll ever breathe normally again. Maybe both?
So i sit here trying to write out my thoughts as my head spins, and my leg shakes, and i feel nauseous, and i want to be doing other things. Because that’s always the answer, write it out. i wish it were really that easy. i wish i didn’t have to sit here time and time again with tears streaming down my face forcing myself to get my thoughts out in words rather than other ways. i wish i didn’t have to have other people pushing me to do so instead of myself too.
But i guess that’s what life is, sometimes you’re the one pushing yourself and sometimes you’re the one being pushed by someone else and i have to keep learning that there is nothing wrong with that. It’s okay to need help. It’s okay to get that push from someone else when i can’t give it to myself. i just need to be able to listen past the drone of the anxiety and the depression monsters and hear the reality of the situation. And that’s not always easy.
Monsters like to pull you down and keep you isolated. That failure feeling is like food for them, they just keep coming back for more and more. And they just get louder and louder every single time. Writing it out, i guess, is my way of breaking that isolation. Of calling bullshit on monsters. i just need a reminder to do so sometimes. i need some help to do that calling out.