The world stops spinning but I ask myself, “Why doesn’t everyone around me stop too?” Can’t they see the blood dripping from my fingers? It’s so unlady like, you know? Too chew on your nails. To pick at your cuticles until there’s nothing left… Fuck; “my fingers are going to be so sore tomorrow” I say to myself. But my hands keep shaking, my mind keeps racing. Who in the fuck cares about my nails? They can’t even tell I’m breaking down inside, right here- right now- in this moment. Who am I to think that anyone cares about my nails? But I need to get back to work now; it’s only 12:00, so Ill switch to my lip. I always prefer the left side of my lip to chew on. Maybe it’s the way my teeth are shaped; I always get a better grip on the left side. This probably wouldn’t be an issue if I would have gotten braces all those years ago. Teeth should be even, teeth should be perfect. I should be able to chew on either side of my bottom lip and it should feel the same… “I should have gotten braces.”
I was fine this morning, I woke up happy after a good night’s sleep. Took a hot shower and kissed my boyfriend good-bye. I got to work and had some cereal… but thank God I didn’t make that cup of coffee. I didn’t know this was going to happen, but my God… With the way my hearts pounding, to the sound of its own version of a Metallica song… Coffee would have been the death of me.
Maybe I should feed it. Water it. But doesn’t that help things grow? I would rather hide under a rock than face anyone at the drive through window. McDonalds always gets my order wrong. Weather they give me a diet coke instead of a regular coke, or put fucking onions on my burger. They always get it wrong. And I can see it now; taking a sip out of that large Styrofoam cup just to realize that once again, everything in life is WRONG. It would send me too tears on a day like today. It would send me over the God damn edge. Excuse my language… It’s just that, once you hit this level of anxiety words don’t seem to matter anymore, people don’t seem to matter anymore. The way you make people feel doesn’t matter anymore. NOTHING matters. It’s you and your anxiety, and that asshole will be the only one in it for the long haul.
Maybe that’s the reason we hold on so tight to the fears in our head and the hurt in our hearts. Because we’re use to them, we know pain better than we know our next door neighbor. We know fear better than we know our own best friend. We also know that people come and people go, and the thought of losing control over a situation is too much for someone like me (Someone like us). I need perfection in everything I do; I need to be in control of the world around me, so that when a day like today comes… I’m ready. I’m prepared. I’m one step ahead of the game…
But I’m never ahead of the game; quite frankly, I’m usually two steps behind. And that’s okay, because the more I continue to learn about MY anxiety (and everyone’s is different), is that when my ears start to ring and my body begins to tremble, the only person in control is ME. Some days I might have it more together than others and some days I might question “WHY ME, GOD?” but I always get the same answer… usually its hours later when my mind has settled flat and I’m lying in bed, exhausted from the marathon I just ran in my head… but I always get the same answer; “Because you can handle it.” And so I do… I handle it.
With my sore fingers I begin to pick up the mess I’ve made, I glue my pieces back together and I face the world. The same world I believed to be so cruel, and so mean. And though most of the time it’s hard to make eye contact, I just stop and think to myself, “I love you.” and that’s what gets me through.
“I love you.” That’s the hardest thing for someone like me (someone like us) to say to ourselves. But the more you say it, the more you believe it. And the more you believe it, the more you start to realize why this mental illness was given to YOU. Because you’re a fighter, and you wake up every single fucking day, not knowing what the world will throw at you. But you wake up. And you live to fight another day. And let me tell you something… that is fucking beautiful. YOU are beautiful. You’re one of Gods toughest soldiers… So when you’re battling whatever it may be, that makes you forget who you are… just remember, you’re not alone. You never were.