Anxiety is like that mini heart attack you get when you slip on ice. Only, it lasts for a lot longer. Sometimes, it’s consistent, and stays with you for hours. Even days. Anxiety is a cruel monster. A hybrid of your high school bully, and the ghosts of every insecurity of memories passed. A reminder of your memories from the past, whispering in your ear about things that you shouldn‘t have to think about anymore. It’s almost like having a song stuck in your head, only, the lyrics are repetitive on a disturbing level, and the voices can’t sing well.
I’ve always been a strong believer that the ‘what if’ questions are a killer. I probably always will be, but I’m also a huge hypocrite. I ask those questions more often than not, and I’m ashamed. Those questions invade my thoughts on a daily basis, and trust me, I wish that I could help that, but I can’t. It always shocks me, how some people think that Anxiety is just something that you can turn off. It’s a real illness, I promise. One that makes itself comfortable inside of your brain. Like a house guest that won’t leave. It sits in the back of your head, forcing you to think about things that most people don’t. Mostly, those ‘what if’ questions, and irrational fears. Like, one of my irrational fears keeps me from ice skating. I’m afraid that if I fall, somebody will skate over my hands, and cut my fingers off. Yes, I’m totally aware of that would most likely never happen, but I haven’t ice skated since I was about ten years old. Another one is, that I’ll swallow a quarter the flat way, and it will cut off my air. It’s so ridiculous, because I would never put a quarter in my mouth. Why would I need to? I know that, yet I still have that fear. See, and it all because, one of my sweet little demons, went to a forbidden spot in my brain, and pushed my panic button. The good news is, I’m aware that those fears don’t make much sense. Also, I’d rather skate on a board than the ice, and snacking on currency isn’t my thing.
When you have this problem, mixed with some others, being alive becomes a challenge. It takes everything out of place. Like, the past is in present, the present isn’t really happening, and the future isn’t there. It’s not easy to function with that. It effects everything you do, say, or think about. People you spend time around will eventually stop giving you the time of day. Mainly because, they can’t handle your crazy. Which is understandable I guess, some people just can’t handle things. Only, when it angers people, that’s when I can’t help but wish I had a giant turtle shell to hide in. I say sorry for a lot of things, on a daily basis. It’s a coping thing. So when people yell at me for that, or yell at me in general, I shut down. Tough love isn’t useful in my mind. More often than not, reassurance that I’m fine is pretty effective. I don’t know if that’s just me, but I feel like others with the same issues probably feel the same way.
When I was out the other night, I wanted to crawl out of my skin for a little while. It was on and off the entire time I was out. Only, lucky for me and my nerves, I was with people that made me comfortable. When that’s the case, being in public doesn’t hurt so much. Being alive doesn’t feel so wrong.
I don’t know, I’m ending this on a weird spot, because go figure….I’m anxious.
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