This is probably one of the realest things I have ever written and why I'm deciding to do it now, I don't know. But, I do hope that in writing this, someone somewhere will read it and realize that they are not alone. That they are not stupid for feeling what they feel. And most importantly, that they are not crazy.
I've had anxiety for a really long time and I've chosen to do nothing about it. What I mean when I say I have chosen to do nothing about it is that I have chosen to ignore it and pretend like it isn't a significant part of me. But anxiety is everywhere and pretending like it isn't there is way too hard because it's fretting the small stuff, and then getting so upset when people always ask you why you just can't get over it. Because I can't. Because I sure wish it was that easy. I wish the sinking feeling didn't come, but I don't get to decide that.
It's being scared to be alone not because you fear the dark, but because you fear the silence of your very own world, and because you know that being alone means bearing the feeling of your voice being the only sound that can fill the room.
It's being afraid of how anxiety lingers. Living with it is always being on your toes because you never know when it will decide to show up.
It's not a choice. You don't ask it to wake you in the middle of the night. You don't invite it into your mind, and you sure don't tell it to stick around and linger so that it can interrupt your day, your night, or your single moment.
It's having a good day, then encountering a single thought that turns your world upside down. It's a light switch in your house that you can't seem to find. If only you could stop it from switching on and off. Better yet -- if only you could unwire it.
It's crumbling when you least expect it, it's getting worked up, worried, and obsessive over the smallest things like riding your bike to class and whether or not it will rain today. It seems irrational, but it's real. It makes no sense and it's chaotic, but it seems normal in your world.
It's hard. It's like living a nightmare that you can't decide when you wake up from. It's like a drunk neighbor that wakes you at two in the morning, relentless in routine and determined to make you lose sleep. It's crying because your weekend plan changed at the last minute. It was just a plan, people say. It's not a big deal, they tell you. But it is. It's actually the biggest deal of your entire day and when you are OK again, you feel silly because you cried over something so small. You realize that it was silly, but you couldn't help it.
For the longest time, I dealt with anxiety as if some day it was going to just stop being apart of me. As if one day, it would disappear. I labeled myself as crazy, needy, demanding, and serious and I let these labels dictate every part of me. I didn't allow myself the realization that anxiety might make my world shake and crumble at times, but that none of those times would ever justify for a label such as crazy.
Because living with anxiety does not make you crazy. Living with anxiety makes you human. Living with it means understanding that it's OK to back out of plans you made because you just can't get off of the couch, that it's OK to put off that project that you had planned to finish today because you just can't think about anything except getting through the simple parts of life today. Because that is just enough.
It means that I've kicked, screamed, and even cried over having these feelings, but that I have found calmer ground again and in doing so, I have not rationalized nor made sense of my anxiety, but I have allowed myself to love the person in me that feels these things. Thus, I have allowed myself to be labeled as human, not crazy, and I have given myself the room to find peace with a challenge that is a very big part of me.
I have had anxiety for quite some time, but I am finished with trying to tuck it away.
I have anxiety and today I am doing something about it. Today, I am deciding to wear it loud and proud.
