Anxiety

It’s the overwhelming voice in the back of your head, making the list of everything you still have to get done when you’re in bed trying to sleep. It’s so easy to tell yourself and the people around you to just ignore it, but it’s hard to execute that plan.

That feeling of frustration and anger is what gets me. Not knowing what to do to make yourself feel better or even, knowing what you can but not having the energy and will power to carry through. I know for myself venting does wonder, talking to a friend or family member really benefits my mental health. However, it’s irritating when all they do is try to find the bright side of the situation.

Let me explain myself with that statement because it seems odd, even to me. When I’m in a state of panic, my mind can’t figure out what it is that I should be thankful for. During that time, my brain refuses to think in a positive manner. Therefore, telling me what I should be thinking about but can’t make me feel as if something is genuinely wrong with me and I’m too crazy to think like a “normal” person. It’s in those moments that I have to remind myself that I’m not crazy and there is no such thing as normal, but it’s so difficult because once my mind starts to tell itself something it doesn’t stop. I have to take a step back and explain to whomever it is helping me that I really need to be on my own.

That in itself brings an entire list of cons. For some, being alone genuinely helps and can be beneficial to oneself. On the other hand, it can be just as destructive for someone else. I am one of those people, where being alone does more harm than it does good. As soon as I’m not distracted my mind starts spinning and telling itself everything I’ve done wrong to date.

I realize now that being distracted is very much a short-term solution and finding a long-term solution is going to be difficult. Despite knowing I need to get help the idea of asking is intimidating, accepting that something is wrong is scary. It seems weird to say but one of the reasons I’m afraid to ask for help is because my mental illness is one of those things that defines me, and I don’t know who I am without it. I’m sure that I’m a happier version of myself, but there is a familiarity with who I am right now and I’m too scared to lose that in order to get better.