My anxiety is like a drug addict. Lying and manipulating and trying to keep it's addiction secret and safe. It's often in survival mode. "Don't take the Xanax!*" It screams at me. Trying to convince me that I have misconstrued the situation. Gaslighting me so I won't trust my own judgement. Twisting thoughts and emotions so I'm convinced I'M the addict and it's just trying to protect me from danger, or drug addiction. It argues with my logic.
"But what if..." That is the mantra of anxiety. "But what if..." Death, destruction, catastrophe, apocalypse... That's inevitably what "But what if..." leads to."But what if I can get healthy and function?" My logical brain retorts. "But what if it's all a placebo, it will wear off soon enough. The sweet sense of peace and calm and clarity will be ripped away from you. You will get worse. So much worse! You probably won't survive that fall. Is it worth the risk? Just stop now. Before it's too late!"
Like a demon in my head, seducing me to relinquish my soul for the sake of familiarity. The darkness shrouding me like a safety blanket. Warm and cozy and hidden away from the world. The illusion of safety. Yet every dog bark, every bump, or knock, or loud truck, or heavy breeze, sends me spiraling out of control. The illusion broken for a moment. "I AM NOT SAFE HERE!"
My mind races and my heart pounds in my ears. Loud enough to drown out all the voices, save one. "You are dying. You are having a heart attack and you are dying. Your husband and kids will be so sad." It's not teasing,. nor is it sad. Just matter of factly. A statement of truth. "You are dying."
I can't catch my breath. The quickened beating of my heart in my ears is deafening, like thunder. I desperately try to slow it. Hands on stomach. Breathe slow. In through nose. Out through mouth. Body check. What can I feel? But I'm numb. What can I hear? My heart and gasping breath. Too fast. It's TOO FAST! Nothing is working. I don't want to die!
I'm sobbing now. Writhing in pain. My whole body hurts. My legs push at the mattress. I try to crawl away from this death. My family flashes through my mind again. Their sorrow. I can feel it. My heart feels broken. I want to throw up. I try to make myself small. So small. I want to disappear. I want to have never been born. I just want this to stop. Death would be better than this. It hurts so much!
My clothes are soaked with sweat. My face and hair and and pillows drenched with sweat and snot. Every part of me is exhausted from fighting. Bit by bit I can feel my limbs giving up. Accepting defeat. Welcoming death. My legs stop writhing. Then my arms fall still. My stomach unclenches, my breathing steadies. My heart no longer feels like it's trying to escape my chest. I can no longer hear it in my ears.
Instead I hear ambient sounds. A fan. A neighbor dog. The tears stop flowing. My chest relaxes last. My mind quiets. I can feel that anxious part of my brain smirking, proud of how it has broken me. But I am not dead. Somehow I survived the assault on my mind, body, and soul. I emerge from my bed. Drained. I blow my nose and wash my swollen, tear stained face.
I don't want to do this anymore. This isn't fair! Why do I have to live like this? Why won't anybody fucking help me?!
My brain is a liar! It thrives on chaos and mayhem. It's addicted to the fear and adrenaline. It will fight and resist any and all treatment. "My Precioussss" It sneers. This is my daily life. It is as routine and bitter as my morning coffee.
But I tricked it. I threw it a curveball that it couldn't anticipate or derail. I reached out for help. I asked someone else to make appointments for therapy and to get meds. I told them no-matter how hard I fight MAKE ME GO!
Sick brain raged and fought. Now I have meds. Sick brain argues every time against the meds. Logic brain is getting stronger. It has tools to fight back. It's not very strong yet. But eventually, eventually it wins. I take the little blue pill and hear anxiety scream in fury! Then it flickers out like a candle flame.
The beast sleeps. I am calm. I can focus and concentrate. The weight on my shoulders is lifted. I have peace and joy. And focus.
And most of all, I have hope.
*Blue pill is generic for Xanax. Also, not it's actual name. lol
April, 2017
Hang in there Jackie, you've got a good start!
ReplyDeleteIs this my life? Are you in my head? Feels good to know I'm not alone. <3 <3
ReplyDeleteYour writing is absolutely beautiful (not because of the topic at hand - but because I can feel your words and their honesty) I find myself relating to so much of what you've written here even though our experiences are not entirely the same. I finally sought help in dealing with my depression and anxiety around November/December of last year. Also on medications. I was absolutely terrified. And it's not something I openly speak about to very many people. But I am grateful for your words, as selfish as it sounds, they're helpful. Realistically I know I'm far from being the only one who is constantly at war with their own mind, yet there are still so many people who have no idea what it's truly like. You are brave, you are strong. You've got this <3 <3
ReplyDeleteHope . . . I am so, so glad you've found yours. I've been trapped within anxiety's shroud off and on since I was a child. You've captured the desperation of this unwelcome visitor . . . I've found hope, lost it, and found it again. Now I know if I get derailed, I can and will get back on track. Life looks so different in the light, doesn't it? Hugs and prayers, sweet soul.
ReplyDeleteThis was so amazing and so relatable Jackie! I'm so glad you're finding your way out of the darkness. I self-sabotage every fucking time and here I am back on the ledge...
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