To me, anxiety isn’t just a word. It’s a feeling. When I’m anxious, I don’t get simply mentally unnerved, exhausted, or overwhelmed, I get pulled down . . . almost physically. My shoulders, arms, chest, neck, head, every part feels like someone’s yanking on my tendons, my tissues, my bones until they’re on the ground, level with the feeling I have inside. And when everything comes crashing to the surface, another devilish little word sneaks in to do its dirty work: depression.
Preying on my weakened state, it avoids the broken fragments below; instead, it goes for the mind. It prods and pulls the lingering negativity until it gets a juicy piece, a piece full of pain. Then, like any wretched thing, it gnaws and gnaws at it for what feels like forever. It would be so much better if it could just get a small piece and swallow it down in one bite, but no, that would be too easy. It has to pick and pick and fucking pick at the slice of meat like a vulture.
By the time it gets to the end of that one scrumptious chunk, it goes for a second, and maybe a third or fourth depending on the day. Unless, by some miracle, I’m able to shove the beast away before it gets too deep . . . but, much like anxiety, it’s not an easy thing to stave off. I’ve tried therapy, meds, exhaustive movie marathons, burying my head under a pillow, telling myself it’s all just in my head, and of course turning my attention to something else, something I always thought was stronger than the beast: alcohol. Turns out, it’s not. It just tastes good.
Throughout my exhaustive search to end what’s eating me, I can’t say I’ve found a cure-all. I’m not sure many who suffer have. All I’ve found is peace in knowing I’m not alone, that no matter how hard this creature tries to tear me apart, it can’t win. It can try, but it won’t win. Every day is a new day. Every hour is a new hour. The longer I keep moving forward, the sooner it falls behind. I just need to keep my feet on the ground and know it’s okay to have issues with mental health; it’s normal. Far too many of us suffer in ways many will never know, but by writing this little bit about my struggles, I feel better. Just typing out the reality of what happens to me . . . well, it could help someone else. It could let them know that that monster pulling them down does it to so many of us, and there’s no way it can win if we all fight back.
Thank you for coming to my TED talk.