To my anxiety:
Every morning when I wake up, you are the first thing that attempts to infiltrate my day. Some days it is easy to brush you aside. Other days you affect the rest of that day. I try to keep you out of my head, but you were named anxiety disorder for a reason. It is not difficult for you to affect my state of happiness, but I have to remind myself that you are not the best of me. You are not representative of what I can accomplish.
People know me well as the one who stresses for the smallest of reasons. I blame you for instilling that insecurity in me. I want nothing more but to dismantle every inch of the self-doubt you see in me.
You are always there. You have always been there. My good days are the days I forget that you’re there.
My anxiety attacks are rare but hurtful. I hyperventilate. I go down an endless, downward spiral of negative thoughts and worries. It feels like every worry I have tries to attack my brain at once. Blackness consumes my mind. I get faint and dizzy and I start to lose sense of reality. The few times they have happened, I feel like I am losing myself and losing sense of who I am. It’s scary.
But I’m slowly discovering your weaknesses, anxiety. You fear my peaceful state of mind. You fear me finding the rhythm in long, deep breaths. You fear my determination. You fear the days I don’t think of you. You fear not being in control.
I made the choice to go off of my medication because I think that I can handle you myself. I think that with my mind and with the love from those around me, you can’t touch me. So far, I’ve been correct. I am proud of myself for reaching out to the health center in the first place. I am proud of myself for reaching out to support systems. I’m going to keep doing so.
The first thing I did when I had my most recent anxiety attack was call my mom. Talking to her reminded me that I have people who will be there for me whenever you try to hurt me.
My friends checked in on me, walked me to my room, and gave me tissues.
I prayed.
I vented.
I read.
I listened to music.
I meditated myself to sleep.
And now I write this to let you know that I have had it.
I know you will keep coming for me. But I get to choose what follows.
I know there will be days that I succumb to your negativity, but I also know that I will work my hardest to make those days as few in numbers as possible.
Battling you has made me stronger.
I am slowly discovering my potential.
I have so many goals for myself.
None of them include you succeeding.
--
Nohely