I have been struggling with my anxiety.
I know, shock, horror — once again. But it wouldn't feel right not to write about it.
Even as I write this draft, my mind is racing, and making me question whether I am indulging in my emotions.
Well, to that I say nothing. I say nothing, because I know I am writing this to help myself — by getting my feelings out onto the page — as well as hoping that, in the process, I help you. I am not writing with selfish intent. The root of this, I feel, is questioning my right to feel.
If I know these feelings are part of my life — a daily battle, to a greater or lesser extent — what's the point in writing about them if they are going to be there whatever I do? In fact, anxiety is part of what makes us human: it helps us to perform to the best of our ability, and it is there to protect us — depending on the situation.
People, everywhere, all around the world, struggle with their mental health on a daily basis. And even if they perceive themselves as recovering from their mental health struggles, they know there will be down days in there somewhere — regardless of how many good days there have been.
I have realised that my anxiety doesn’t stem so much from social situations and going into the unknown as it once did. That’s progress. In fact, at the moment, I seem to view the unknown more as an adventure and an opportunity to see what happens. My anxiety centres around what I can't control — so there is still that element of being worried about going into the unknown — but again, that is part of what makes us human. Anxiety is a natural response, I’m just getting better at harnessing it for my benefit, rather than detriment.
I am also coming to terms with the notion that however much you may want to help someone, they must be ready — or even want — to receive that help.
This even applies when you are considering yourself. For example, I know when I need help — but I need time to process everything that's happening on the inside, before I am able to reach out and heal. In order to relay these feelings to someone else, I need to understand what I'm feeling for myself. It’s easier to articulate our exact feelings that way.
I feel some of my anxiety stems from having been in such a deep dark well (keeping the the talons of life at bay) at various stages of my life. I am definitely scared of going there again. So, in effect, am I scared of being anxious, and anxious about being anxious?
I am also acutely aware of the strain this has had on those around me. And I worry about pushing them away again. I wonder whether these wounds can ever really heal, or whether they just lightly scab over?
On another day, I might be able to better quell these thoughts and feelings. I know those who love me most will not leave me for having to make an effort (even a small one), but today these thoughts have me at their mercy.
Tomorrow, we will get up and fight once again.
Comments