I could write about the exhaustion anxiety has given me until the day I die and it wouldn’t crack the surface of how it feels everyday.
Front door. Back up. Did I turn the flat iron off?
Ok, I did. Check.
Survey the room- I’m ok.
But did I really shut it off?
Ok, I know I did. I can leave now.
But did I unplug that one cord?
Back up. Recheck. Repeats ten times.
Oh, you got into a minor argument with someone you care about? They said it’s ok. Don’t worry. You can relax, it’s really no big deal.
Oh, but you got into an argument. Good job. You literally are the worst. Why are you so dumb? You couldn’t just think twice before you did that one dumb thing?
They said it’s ok. I don’t have to cry about it. I can’t change things now. It was minor anyway. I apologized and now we can move on.
Ah, but we can’t. Keep it up, stupid. You are so awful. How could you treat someone like that? How could you do that?
It becomes so exhausting. The inner fighting, the crying, the no sleep. The finally-falling-asleep-then-waking-two-hours-later-to-a-screaming-mind. The never rested, the overworked, the underappreciated.
I, myself, know that I deserve to feel whole. I have felt whole. But just like the days in our lives, we have good moments and we have bad moments. It just so happens that when the bad arrives, it’s usually really bad.
The only way to get through the bad is to truck through it like a shitty marathon run you didn’t prepare for.
Sometimes I glance at the lives of people I knew growing up and grow angry and jealous with the seemingly normal, fun lives they live. They don’t know what it’s like to live with an inner demon. They don’t know what it’s like to fight with yourself. They don’t get the prescriptions and the crying and the never ending dullness.
And then I get mad at myself for thinking that these people don’t have demons. Everyone has a demon. Some are just less visible than others.
I don’t even know why I’m writing this. There’s people dying, starving children, crisis everywhere. And I’m upset because I can’t get my mind to shut up? I’m upset because I can’t stop crying when something slightly inconvenient or upsetting happens? I’m mad because I have to live every day like a play-by-play in order to stay sane?
But I guess it can go both ways.
I know there are worse problems. I know that there are people who have it worse than I do. It just so happens that I have bad days too. I’m allowed to feel like shit. But there’s a difference between dwelling in it and recognizing I have a problem. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, somewhere.
They say that no good things come easy, so I hold onto that when the going gets tough. It really gets tough.
I am important. I am worth a good, healthy life. I am worth good days and I am worth bad days.
It’s all tied into some weird life plan that I am ignorant to at the moment.
I don’t have the answer for the impending anxiety. It’s an every day struggle that only I can take charge of. I will get there.
I hope that one day it goes away. But I would rather deal with it than see anyone deal with it.
Some days are harder than others, but those days are the ones that hold the most value.
I can do this. You can do this.
We’ll be ok.