The Unknown | 2019

The bathtub is filled half way with cool water. I wanted it hot, but it must be all out. Sometimes that happens.

I try to focus on the drip drip noise that comes from the faucet but I can’t hear anything. I feel heavy and indifferent. My mind is racing, but my body is slow and forlorn. I try to focus on anything but the thoughts running rampant in my brain, but they don’t stop.

That’s the funny thing about anxiety. It doesn’t stop.

Anxiety doesn’t care that I’m a good person, or that I have goals to achieve. He doesn’t care that I have a job to go to and friends to keep up with. Anxiety doesn’t care– it just is.

I sit up in the bath and I try some deep-breathing. It helps sometimes. My body is cold and the water is slowly draining; but I don’t care. I’m slowly draining, too.

The optimist in me knows that I have the strength to conquer even the hardest days–fuck, she’s never been wrong before. What makes lately any different?

My therapist confirms that my worry stems from The Unknown, a term I’m coining for my anxiety. The Unknown is a part of me. It is my ultimate downfall and my biggest blessing.

With it; I am haphazard. Without it; I am not me.

Some days I don’t know which is worse.

I’d like to take full responsibility for how I feel because it seems like the right thing to do. For awhile I blamed my dad’s suicide, and the sexual assault, and this and that. I was hell-bent on finding someone to blame other than just letting it be what it is– a part of who I am and something I don’t have full control over. I’m not a controlling person, but Goddammit, I wish I could be in control of this.

Anxiety doesn’t have to be a negative thing, though it’s damn hard to flip the switch on something with such a depressing connotation. Manifesting something so self-debilitating and turning it into a power tool to create a better you is not something easily mastered. I won’t pretend like I have done it myself– I haven’t. But I have complete faith that it can be done; only, and only if, you allow yourself to become wholeheartedly vulnerable.

I get it. It’s hard for people to come to terms with anxiety and all it entails. It’s hard to admit when there’s a problem; and even worse, it’s hard to seek help. When you do receive help, it’s hard to accept what’s being told to you. It’s too easy to fall into the rabbit hole, constantly wondering why do I have to be like this? and why can’t I just be normal?

I guess everyone is different. I’m no expert, you know? I have no idea what the hell I’m doing most of the time. All I really know is that I go through some shit and with that comes a burning need to help others that are dealing with the same emotions I am. Not everyone is strong and level-headed. I can’t fix these people, but I can be there for them as much as they’ll allow me to be.

The water in the tub has completely drained. The air has frozen my body but I make way to grab a towel. I’m frozen, but my mind is not. She keeps going, and going, and…

I have a theory that everything happens for a reason. All the good, bad, and traumatic has a place in our lives. We aren’t always meant to know why. We aren’t always going to understand it. It’s okay to not understand. Roll with the punches, take shit at face value, allow yourself to be engulfed in whatever life hits you with.

Hm, maybe I should take my own advice?

I’m out of the tub now, sleepy and ready to rest my head.

Tomorrow is a new day, and maybe The Unknown won’t be so bad.

But even if he is, we’ll get through it.

We always do.

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Twenty-Two

Yesterday was my twenty-second birthday. If I said it was bittersweet, well…that would be an understatement.

We don’t realize how quickly time passes until we sit for a moment and really reflect.

In 2018, I’ve ended an engagement. I’ve watched a friend get buried. I’ve gotten my heart broken. I’ve nearly died. I’ve been manipulated and hurt.

I’ve also graduated college. I’ve moved away from my hometown. I’ve started therapy. I’ve made new friends, lost weight, earned a ton of self-respect and self-love. I’ve met some undeniably beautiful, incredible people.

It’s hard not to focus on the negative. When a new year approaches, it’s so easy to say, “I can’t wait for this year to be over!”

I had a conversation with my therapist today about living in the moment and how hard I find that to be.

“Do you ever sit back and find the ‘pause’ in life? Do you breathe?”

No, I don’t fucking breathe because my mind goes a mile a minute and I’m ever-so-gracefully trying to play catch-up. That mindset has singlehandedly robbed me of so many good, pure opportunities. It has taken away so much happiness. It has ruined a lot of great things.

The good news is this:

Thinking destructively is reversible. I am not destined for failure because of it. I am not doomed. Because of my ability to recognize a negative habit, I am that much closer to flipping it into something better and healthier.

In short, I’d say this year was a success; much like all the other years under my belt. I’m alive. I was fortunate enough to feel emotion and express it. I’ve made people happy, and people have done the same for me. It’s bittersweet in the sense that I’ve gone through a lot of heartache, but secretly, that’s the beauty of it. Everything, even bad things, happen for a reason. I am empathetic, experienced, and above all else– I am happy.

I am ending this year confidently with a few amazing people and a better frame of mind.

I am ready.

 

 

 

 

The Art of Accomplishing Nothing

I visited my therapist this past Friday, like I do every week. We were discussing accomplishments and how I am notorious for downplaying even the big and exciting things that happen to me.

“I guess something cool happened to me. It’s not huge, but…”

“You’re doing it again.”

Dammit. She’s a great therapist and she’s even better when she calls me out on my bullshit.

Her point did get me thinking– Why do I downplay myself? Why do I find it so difficult to celebrate the small stuff? I have this irrational way of thinking everything I do or say needs to be momentous; and if it’s not, I probably shouldn’t go about it. I practice this with articles, in conversations, with schoolwork. It’s an exhausting way to go about life.

“Not every accomplishment needs to be big. Sometimes just getting out of bed in the morning is an accomplishment.”

She’s absolutely right. Sometime’s it’s really fucking hard to get out of bed, or take a shower, or finding time to eat a decent meal. These tasks seem menial, but some days they’re the hardest ones to start or finish.

I had a bad day yesterday, but I still finished my day. I still ate. I still smiled. I still took a shower, found time to eat, checked in with my friends. There was a lot I could have done and didn’t do– but that’s okay. Life goes on and it won’t stop for you or I.

Today started off equally as terrible, but I still got up. I went to class. I did what I needed to do. It’s so easy to get caught up in the mundane style of our day-to-day, so I try to break things up. I order a different coffee in the morning. I take a different route to class. I listen to a new song. It seems silly, and maybe it is, but things like these do count as accomplishments some days. There’s something to be said for the effort put forth. There’s something to be said for trying.

I’m not going to pretend like this revelation will change my way of thinking all-day, every-day. It won’t. I’m still going to feel very, very unaccomplished some days. I’m still going to have doubt and worry. I’m still going to feel like I’m not doing enough.

But the good news?

I’m ok today.

That’s all I can ask for.

Anxiety + Coming Out of the Comfort Zone

 

Simple situations garner the most anxiety.

Ordering food, walking into an unfamiliar situation, speaking to someone new– all of these brainless tasks can immediately send me into panic mode. I’ve missed out on so many positive experiences and beautiful people because of fear.

Recently my roommate asked me if I wanted to go to the gym with her. I’m fairly sure I laughed in her face.  I laughed in her face.

Gym? Don’t know him.

Despite telling her no, she basically forced me into going with her.

I’ve wasted money on memberships I’ve never used because fear would not allow me to better myself. Fear controlled me 99.9% of the time.

But I went. Once, then twice, then three times. For someone that never leaves her apartment, this was truly a step in the right direction. (I’m not sorry about this terrible pun.)

Living with anxiety is a lot like taking 3 steps forward and 2 steps back. I’m not lazy (despite contrary belief) and I’m not unmotivated. I just don’t always know how to turn the negative into a positive. I don’t always feel like I am worthy of change or happiness. The “what-if’s” consume a good portion of my thought process, and it’s something I’ve always dealt with. What if they judge me? What if I make an ass out of myself? What if I can’t do it? Most days I don’t think twice about it– I am anxiety and anxiety is me.

I do know that I’m tired of letting irrational fears control who I am and the things that I do. Anxiety has made me older than I am. With her, I am burnt out and worn.

It doesn’t have to be that way.

So, I will say this– I’m no fitness guru, I didn’t lose any weight, and I’m not remotely close to my ideal shape.

The good thing? I have time. This isn’t a race, nor a competition. This is a journey towards self-expression, health, and productivity– powered by me.

If not now, then when?

As always, we need you.

–Leah

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