Dear Anxiety, You Do NOT Define Who I Am | The Odyssey Online
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Dear Anxiety, You Do NOT Define Who I Am

I will not be manifested by you.

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Dear Anxiety, You Do NOT Define Who I Am
Isabella Bumbera

I am not the physical pain that greets me on certain mornings, the sudden sickness I feel in my stomach and racing heart that jolts me awake at 5 am and panting like a dog in the heat.

I am not the intrusive thoughts that run through my head, poisoning every good memory I've ever had of spending time with loved ones, somehow convincing myself at this ungodly hour of the morning when it's still dark out that I am unlovable. Unworthy. All those people that say they're your friends? Nah, they were faking it! Your family's not proud of you, and your partner secretly resents you.

I am not the expulsion of nervous energy that pulses through every limb as I try to sit and pay attention to my professor's lecture, frantically shaking my leg under the table as if I were controlling a stubborn pottery wheel pedal. Fidgeting with the skin on the back of my hand as if it were silly putty quietly under my sweatshirt so that no one suspects a thing.

I am not the swallowed words that I want so desperately to shout over the noise of a crowded room. I want the lump in my throat to dissolve, unleashing a stream of my own thoughts and words into the inaudible mess of voices, whether it be in a restaurant or classroom.

Instead, I am the love that I give and the care that I try to show to those that mean the most to me.

I am the summation of over 20 years of fighting- working against my own brain, at times breaking down in tears because something wasn't quite right, but I just didn't know how to fix it.

I am the ever-improving perfectionist working on the acceptance of all her less than stellar attributes.

I am not someone who always has their feet planted firmly on the ground, sometimes a little too lost in space, caught up in a song, a book, a movie, or a show. Someone who dives headfirst into her passions and still muscles through the tasks that are a bit mundane.

I am the flavor of caramel popcorn, sometimes salty though always striving to be more sweet.

I am the warmth of a solid cuddle from my dog.

And I am not the physical manifestation of my anxiety.


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