To my anxiety-
You are the worst part about me, and I’m not enjoying your late night visits.
You’ve been gone for a while, only making visits at normal times, maybe just give me a few surprise attacks here and there, thanks for that. I know you’re a part of me, that little messed up part of my brain that doesn’t like the rest of me for some reason. The part of my brain that makes me think everyone hates me, the part of my brain that picks at every insecurity, the part of the brain that makes it hard to move some days, the part I hate the most.
You are the secret I’ve been keeping recently until now. No one really knows your back but me. You are becoming overbearing again. You are trying to take over my life. No matter how often the people around me validate their feelings for me, not matter how good of a job I’m doing on something, you are the part of me that destroys that.
Thank you for constantly reminding me of the B- in philosophy and belittling it even though I should be proud of because I worked so hard for it. Thank you for reminding me that even though I put forth so much effort that people who did less still did better than me. That had to be your favorite class because that is where I felt you the most, preventing me from raising my hand, preventing me from sharing my opinion, just in case it was wrong. Thank you for making me feel worthless for being unemployed and making me question my marketability. You get inside my head and make me feel as if there is something wrong with me because I can’t even get a call or an email about a job.
You have yet to start to interfere with relationships, but that won’t last long. You come out in an angry fury at the smallest things that drives rifts into the strongest of relationships. The longer you stay, the sooner this will happen. You ruin everything you touch, which leads me to believe that I will ruin everything I touch.
Thank you for making me feel as if I’m undesirable. Thank you for ruining any potential crush of mine by letting me know that no one could want someone who cries when there are too many people in a room or shuts down when one little thing isn’t where it’s supposed to be. You not only remind me of every imperfection that my body unfortunately has, but make me feel as if I am crazy too.
You belittle me until I feel hardly anything. You make me not even want to post this because you are the voice in my head that tells me that people will judge me, they won’t want to be around me. They don’t take you seriously, they think I make you up. Because you are the voices of the people who claim “you’re faking it” or the people who say “you’re being over dramatic” or “you can’t have anxiety when you have no problems” “You just need to calm down, and you’ll be fine”. You are the voices of those who don’t believe in you which is one of the most ironic things of all. The voices who don’t take me seriously, the voices who don’t even believe you are a real thing period. You are the judgment I receive anytime I try to be open with my anxiety because it is a discussion that society needs to have and try to better understand, not for me, but for the millions of people suffering.
Even after you subsided for months, letting me feel as if I’m in control for maybe even a week, you take it all away from me. You are the worst part of me, the most controlling part of me, the part that I just wish would go away.
To my anxiety- please go away.