Anxiety is just another tool.
Sometimes I feel like slipping out of my skin for a second. Sometimes I feel like sinking comfortably into the cool, calm waters of someone else’s psyche and ditching mine for a just a few moments. Sometimes I need a vacation from the exhaustion that is a lifetime of anxiety.
Sometimes I’m left hollow and depleted by the force of my emotions — when I’m so overwhelmed by my love of music and words that I feel like I can wrap myself in the warm blanket of a song, or wear my words like a crown. Other days I can’t type a single word. But I make my fingers move across the keyboard anyways because this is what I do.
Sometimes I’m so uplifted and invigorated by the kindness of people and the thrill of human contact that I sprout wings. Other days a simple interaction with another human drains the life force out of me until I’m left shriveled and dehydrated, growing back into myself only when I can find the nourishing effects of peace and quiet.
Sometimes I feel my own power and inertia surge through me like a tidal wave, carrying me on the crest to reach the highest mountains of my dreams. Other times I’m left dizzy by the thoughts that circle around me like tigers waiting to pounce. They antagonize me, asking me what my intentions are, questioning my humanity and my ability.
Sometimes I want it to stop whispering that I’m not good enough. Sometimes I want it to stop sending liquid nitrogen through my veins at the thought of social circles or the unknown. Sometimes I want it to stop shouting “MORE. BIGGER. BETTER. NOW.”
Sometimes it strips me down to bare bone. After the tigers have pounced and gnawed away at every pound of flesh, there’s nothing left but the skeleton of my essence; an obsidian-sharp sense of purpose. And this… this is the tool I use to carve the shape of my dreams.