As someone with General Anxiety Disorder anxiety is just apart of my daily life. It is something that I just deal with along with my other daily to-dos. But sometimes I just can’t. That is the times when my anxiety is at its worst.
Anxiety at its worst feels like an invisible weight on your chest that is suffocating you. But others don’t see it, no, all they see is you seemingly panicking over nothing.
But it chokes you, swallowing you whole. It leaves you feeling hot and cold, sweaty and freezing. It takes over your whole body and makes it its own.
It slowly takes over your vision, slowly, starting with just black around the edges, maybe some dark spots. But them before you notice it drops you into darkness.
It can leave you feeling like venom is circulating through your veins. Causing pain that should not be there.
Just the though of leaving the house can cause you to freeze. Invincible hands around your throat and hands. Choking you into silent and forcing you still.
It’s the fortune-telling monster lying next to you in bed. You can feel it their behind you, the monster that only you can feel. It whispers everything that you did wrong. It gives out premonitions and prophecies that turn self-fulfilling as you do them as you try to avoid them.
Its your own heads home theater that plays home movies of all your embarrassments and failures on loop. Home movies that you didn’t even remember existed until that moment and now is something that seems to be stuck on loop.
It’s the dark that keeps playing tricks on you with the shadows. It’s the to still and quite darkness that lends itself perfectly for the whispering thoughts that tell your every wrong doing.
To me its this and everything more when I am at my worst. It’s the thing that stopped me from being able to go to school for weeks on end. It’s the thing that stopped me from being able to go outside.
This is when my anxiety becomes my worst enemy.
But this is when my worst enemy becomes me. As I become my anxiety. When my anxiety is at its worst all I am is my anxiety.
And sure it gets better, this is just when it’s when its worst. But even when this is not everyday this still happens, and I wish it wouldn’t.
And I still have to live with my anxiety even if it’s not this bad it’s still there. And I guess I should be happy that this is not what its like everyday.
But maybe I am selfish enough to want it to be never. And sure I do no that my anxiety is apart of me, that it helped shape what made me who I am.
But I wish there was a cure.
But there isn’t.
And it is just something that I work on and push through.
Because even with these wishes I will not let it rule me. I can and will wish all I want for it to go away. But I will not let it rule me.
So when it’s not at its works I work with it. I push through it.
I live through it.