There is nothing in the world like having a panic attack. Nothing in the world like being reminded that your mind has exhausted your body to its maximum by traveling to every irrational thought, even the small and passing ones.
I have way too much work to do. Chest tightens. What do they really think of me? Breath shortens. Am I good enough? Why did I say that thing I said a month ago in that passing conversion? Sweat. What if I shouldn’t be here anymore? What if me being alive is not worth anyone’s time, even my own? Bam, tears.
I’ve never had anxiety before this semester. This damn semester. The straw that broke the camel’s back. Imagine being stressed out and worried and tense over everything. Not just your tests or general classes, not just your physical appearance. But, your birthday, a night out of fun, your good friendships. The stuff in your life that’s supposed to be good, that’s supposed to be positive. The weight of this world I live in has never felt so heavy before; it’s never felt this impossible before to make it through. The worst is that very few people understand. “Why do you care so much about what other’s think?” “You’re smart, don’t worry about your work.” “You look really good, don’t say that about yourself.” I know that what I’m feeling is irrational, I’ve accepted that. But getting through this is so much easier said than done.
But, I am trying.
With one counseling session, I’ve come to accept and embrace my anxiety as being just that, anxiety. A feeling. A physiological response to my overreaction to certain situations, comments, thoughts. I know how one controls and battles it, I’ve even done so a couple of times. It’s a nice feeling. But, it’s not quite enough. I’m waiting for that next session, that next release. Until then, I’m trying.
I guess there’s nothing more I can do right now, and I promise that I am doing it. I just wish more people knew, or understood. It’s hard to be anxious and have other people not understand why you are reacting in a certain way, why you’re looking for constant confirmation that you’re doing something right. That you’re not being irrational. That you’ll be okay and that you’re not just another girl seeking the attention of people around her but fearing that you’ll never have their acceptance.
I’m sorry for this direct look into my mind, but I needed to get this out somewhere. This seemed like the good place. I doubt anyone will even read this. If you did though, and made it here, thank you for listening.
"Let the storm rage on,
the cold never bothered me, anyway.”
Paint me a world of your wildest imaginations,
invite me into your soul for a cup of tea,
and explain to me your darkest and deepest secrets that you, yourself, do not even fully understand.
Soak yourself in honesty and wring out in my soft, white palms,
I want to know you more than you know yourself,
I want to be the one knocking moments before you open the door to its widest, breaking the hinges in the process.
For you, I will let my curls loose,
I will wipe off the black smudges in the corners of my eyes
and I will laugh a laugh that only the furthest edges of my belly know.
I won’t even say a thing; no sentences, no phrases, no words,
no tiny slips of the tongue,
nothing but the natural, all waiting to burst from inside of me.