Here’s the thing with anxiety and depression, some days I
feel better than others. Some days my smile is real, and I may laugh at your
silly joke. Other days though it’s all fake, the smile, the laugh, the
assurance that I’m doing fine, none of it is real, it's just a really good act. I’m just waiting for the
people to go away so I can break down and cry alone.
These are the hard days, I need something from other people they
can’t give me. I’m not even sure I can put what it is I want into words. It’s
not sympathy, or empathy, it’s not encouragement, or positive words, nor is it
compassion or understanding. It’s an elusive need, one that is rarely met, I’m
not even sure I know what it is I am needing. All I know is I don’t have it!
When depression over rides everything else and I feel like
everything is pointless my chest becomes heavy, I can’t believe anyone sees
anything worthwhile in me. I can’t see anything worthwhile in myself. Depression
is a nasty beast whispering constantly in my ear, “Why am I here? What’s the
point of my life? Why does anyone care? They don’t really care, why don’t they
stop pretending?”
If I was just battling depression perhaps these questions
would remain unanswered and just be thoughts flitting through the back burner
of my mind. The thing is, my true demon is anxiety, and she loves nothing more
than to scream the answers at me. She screeches at top volume, it makes my head
ache, my eyes hurt and my throat constrict. It steals the breath from my lungs
and makes my stomach roll. All the while her shrill voice is shrieking answers
to questions I don’t want to be asking anyway. “you’re a mistake! Your life is
pointless, worthless. You’re a fraud. No one cares, they are all using you, if
you tell them the truth they will run. You’re dumb, pathetic, always making
mistakes, you’re a bad sister, a bad friend, a bad wife. You’re a bad person,
everyone is laughing at you, you can’t do anything right.”
I take my medication, follow doctor’s orders, I meditate, I practice
mindfulness, I see a therapist, but I still have these bad days where it feels
like I am moving backwards. Days where it is all too much and I want to hide
away. I want no one to come near and no one to touch me, except, I want to be
reassured, and I want to know my friends and family care. On these bad days
where I’m caught between a beast and a demon, I know I am too needy, too
fragile, I cannot be pleased. I am aware of how many bad days I have (there is
no need for anyone to need to remind me), and I wish it really was just as easy
as “snapping out of it”.
I’ve lost friends, who think I fake it, I’ve had family call
me narcissistic, I’ve fought with my husband because I seemed irrational, I
have been both actively and passively suicidal, I’ve lived in self-denial; I have
lived through these things and I am proud of myself for surviving. It doesn’t
make the hard days any easier. It doesn’t mean I’ve killed a rabid beast or
slayed a wretched demon. It just means I have survived, and hopefully with the
blessing of my gods, the right medications, and watchful eye of my husband I will
keep on surviving.
I may never lay my beast and demons to rest, but I will
never stop trying. I will never stop sharing my struggle, never stop trying to
let others know they are not alone with their monsters in this scary wilderness
called life. Will you fight your demons with me?
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