Jan 9, 2019
This content contains explicit and sensitive information that may not be suitable for all ages.
Since I was 14, I’ve woken up with this crippling feeling that I can’t possibly face the day.
It’s almost as if some event today will be the moment that destroys me and I never feel prepared mentally for the decision I will need to make after that.
Because if that moment is so terrible, could I even bare to endure it? See, I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to live like this. Everyday my goal has just been to survive the day. Just survive work, survive the commute, and survive your friends. It’s become so routine that the idea of living life and just surviving have become intertwined.
And each day I make it through alive seems like a miracle in itself.
No matter how many days I get through, the proof is never strong enough that tomorrow will be any different. I have become so accustomed and attached to this feeling, it’s as if my identity has become a dark cloud of anxiety. The two have become one, and I can’t think of myself or experience anything in life without associating anxiety with it. The version of me that used to get out of bed without a single thought seems gone for good. My thoughts have become so paralyzing in the silence of the night that going to sleep has become a battle to fight for every night.
I wasn’t always like this and I don’t want to be.
The constant screw ups, fears and unknowns become so deafening it’s as though someone is squeezing the breath right out of me. It’s as if they are taunting me, telling me that tonight will be my last.
I wasn’t always like this and I don’t want to be. But it constantly feels like I am grieving the person I once was, afraid that I will never get her back.
I can’t pin point the exact reason I started feeling that way, and I think that only makes it harder because I can’t seem to figure out how to make it stop. You see, the treatment never worked. The medication didn’t improve my mood and the therapy didn’t release any burdens.
I realized that it’s me, that I am my greatest enemy.
It started to feel that I was the problem, and that I would be trapped in this never ending hell. And despite what they tell you, going for a walk and yoga doesn’t work for everyone. I’ve been told that only I can help myself. That was the worst news I could have received, because I think I am incapable of giving myself the credit and love people tell me I deserve. I’ve stopped thinking that anxiety was the enemy, because I realized that it’s me, that I am my greatest enemy.
Each day that I go through this I’m hurting everyone I care about. Even the most patient people can only endure so much. The more pain I’m in, the less understanding and calming they become. I don’t blame them for this, but that doesn’t stop the feelings of abandonment. These feelings only seem to fuel my pain, as I become angry at myself for doing this to myself and everyone else around me. It’s a vicious cycle that only seems to bring more hatred for myself. And that’s when I start to realize that maybe everyone would be better off without me. That maybe, I would be better off without me. No one needs me, because it was always me that needed other people for validation, love and comfort because I could never give those things to myself.
But then there are days when I give a great presentation at work, or I get ready and go out with my friends and have a great time. It’s in those moments that I understand why people want to live and what it’s like to not be afraid anymore. It’s these little things that make me realize maybe I can get through this. And that is what keeps me fighting each day, so that I can experience even one more moment like that. My life has become a series of small victorious moments in a sea of struggle, and I can only hope that I don’t eventually find myself drowning.