Mar 2017
Knock knock
Who's there
Anxiety
Anxiety who
Anxiety that never left because it's always there no matter what
When you hear the word anxiety you think one of three things
1. Panic attacks
2. Nervous ticks, for example: nail biting, chewing on your shirt, st-st-stuttering, stumbling over, I mean, over words that are yours, I mean stumbling over your words, blushing, etc. etc. etc.
Or 3. Being nervous
For those who think about the first option:
Panic attacks are included. So are mental breakdowns, hour long crying sessions, difficulty to breathe, and hearing your heartbeat every day and night 24/7.
For those who think about the second option:
Nervous ticks are always a part of it, no matter how small they are or how noticeable it is. And yes, we are trying to stop. But saying we need to stop won't help anything because we already know. Stop wasting your breath on facts we already know.
For people who think about the third option:
Yes and no. It is being nervous and yet, it's so much more.
It's saying I'm sorry when you don't need to but you feel like you should because you think you did something wrong.
It's scratching at spots that aren't itchy but you feel your insecurities crawling over your body like fire ants and it hurts so you scratch.
It's making problems out of thin air like a magician pulls a rabbit out of an empty hat. Except there's nothing magical about it. It's terrifying and it shapes the way you think and act and feel and walk and talk and breathe and are.
It's feeling like your friends aren't your friends because you think they talk bad about you behind your back like spies among a common enemy and the common enemy is you.
You don't like being the common enemy so you ask them if you're annoying and you ask them if you're a bad person and you ask them if you did something wrong and you say you're sorry in a blizzard of words and scrambled up sentences.
For example,
When I was in 5th grade I felt my best friends drifting away and I didn't know what to do because I'm scared of being alone. As the year went on, I had this nagging feeling at the back of my mind that they were talking about me behind my back and didn't like me at all. At the end of the year, I finally gathered enough courage to ask if they were. My friend was offended and said no. All summer it bugged me. It was like another stone added to my wall of insecurities built around me in the shape of the person I wanted to be. After summer, I frantically apologized and they looked at me like I was crazy. I still feel like a monster.
Anxiety is also feeling like a monster is under your bed. But when you check it's in your closet. Then, it's behind you. Then, it's beside you. And finally you realize, it's inside you. And in a horrifying second you realize that you can't run from it because how do you run away from your mind?
I am afraid of my mom, my dad, my siblings, my friends, my teachers, my girlfriend, my principal, my vice-principle, and everyone else in my life. That includes the stranger I walk by on the sidewalk on my way to my house.
I am afraid of letting them down. I am afraid of them hating me. I am afraid of losing them. I am afraid of them pitying me. I am afraid of needing their help. I am afraid of asking for help. I am afraid of them seeing me as weak. I am afraid of them sending me to get get help. I am afraid of them realizing that I am a monster.
I am a monster.
I feel like a monster.
That's anxiety.
Anxiety is feeling like a monster in human skin, trying to play out the part of a normal human being and failing miserably and awkwardly.
That's anxiety.
At least it is for me.
Who's there
Anxiety
Anxiety who
Anxiety that never left because it's always there no matter what
When you hear the word anxiety you think one of three things
1. Panic attacks
2. Nervous ticks, for example: nail biting, chewing on your shirt, st-st-stuttering, stumbling over, I mean, over words that are yours, I mean stumbling over your words, blushing, etc. etc. etc.
Or 3. Being nervous
For those who think about the first option:
Panic attacks are included. So are mental breakdowns, hour long crying sessions, difficulty to breathe, and hearing your heartbeat every day and night 24/7.
For those who think about the second option:
Nervous ticks are always a part of it, no matter how small they are or how noticeable it is. And yes, we are trying to stop. But saying we need to stop won't help anything because we already know. Stop wasting your breath on facts we already know.
For people who think about the third option:
Yes and no. It is being nervous and yet, it's so much more.
It's saying I'm sorry when you don't need to but you feel like you should because you think you did something wrong.
It's scratching at spots that aren't itchy but you feel your insecurities crawling over your body like fire ants and it hurts so you scratch.
It's making problems out of thin air like a magician pulls a rabbit out of an empty hat. Except there's nothing magical about it. It's terrifying and it shapes the way you think and act and feel and walk and talk and breathe and are.
It's feeling like your friends aren't your friends because you think they talk bad about you behind your back like spies among a common enemy and the common enemy is you.
You don't like being the common enemy so you ask them if you're annoying and you ask them if you're a bad person and you ask them if you did something wrong and you say you're sorry in a blizzard of words and scrambled up sentences.
For example,
When I was in 5th grade I felt my best friends drifting away and I didn't know what to do because I'm scared of being alone. As the year went on, I had this nagging feeling at the back of my mind that they were talking about me behind my back and didn't like me at all. At the end of the year, I finally gathered enough courage to ask if they were. My friend was offended and said no. All summer it bugged me. It was like another stone added to my wall of insecurities built around me in the shape of the person I wanted to be. After summer, I frantically apologized and they looked at me like I was crazy. I still feel like a monster.
Anxiety is also feeling like a monster is under your bed. But when you check it's in your closet. Then, it's behind you. Then, it's beside you. And finally you realize, it's inside you. And in a horrifying second you realize that you can't run from it because how do you run away from your mind?
I am afraid of my mom, my dad, my siblings, my friends, my teachers, my girlfriend, my principal, my vice-principle, and everyone else in my life. That includes the stranger I walk by on the sidewalk on my way to my house.
I am afraid of letting them down. I am afraid of them hating me. I am afraid of losing them. I am afraid of them pitying me. I am afraid of needing their help. I am afraid of asking for help. I am afraid of them seeing me as weak. I am afraid of them sending me to get get help. I am afraid of them realizing that I am a monster.
I am a monster.
I feel like a monster.
That's anxiety.
Anxiety is feeling like a monster in human skin, trying to play out the part of a normal human being and failing miserably and awkwardly.
That's anxiety.
At least it is for me.
