My Anxiety and Me

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There’s a little voice in my head and he likes to ruin things for me; my dark cloud, my whirlwind of worry, my anxiety.

I didn’t invite him, but he moved in and he won’t leave. He coats my conversations, my relationships, my thoughts in thick black tar. He distorts the way I see and hear, the way I think and function.

He’s on a mission to destroy me, and it takes every fiber of my being to stop that. I’m trying to keep it together and keep him in check, but it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done and I have to start over every. single. day.

He makes a mountain out of molehill. He makes the outside world my enemy, and suddenly simple things like going to the kitchen take preparation. What if people are in there? What if I say the wrong thing? It’s less than 15 steps and yet my heart is pounding like I’ve run 5K. I feel sick. I’m scared, and I don’t know what of.

Some days aren’t so bad. I can get up and go – things get done, I’m happy and its as if I’ve got my life back. Then some days I just want to hide. I shut the world outside of the door, but that’s not enough. It creeps in. He’s in my head screaming at me, yelling that I’m doing everything wrong. He’s smashing things and it hurts. Those days I just want to disappear out of existence for a while, because that would be easier than dealing with this.

But I can’t tell you that. Because he’s there, listening. He’s there telling me that you’d think I’m stupid or weird or both. He’s there stealing the air from my lungs and wrapping himself around my throat. I can’t breathe let alone think of a way to tell all of this to you.

So please, be patient with me. If I ask you something over and over, it’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s that he twists everything up inside me, so I need reassurance that what he says isn’t true. If I say I can’t do something, it’s not because I don’t want to, its because he’s stopping me. Please understand that.

It’s not you, it’s me. Well it’s my anxiety.


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