My Anxiety

My anxiety is the white noise in my brain at night, the revolving door of the same few thoughts I can’t move out from.

My anxiety is the pang in my chest I believe for a moment is the beginning of a heart attack.

My anxiety is the way my jaw tightens like a spring trap.

My anxiety is the lump in my throat that blooms out fear.

My anxiety is leaving the room before anyone sees.

My anxiety is one thousand what if’s, and not nearly enough answers.

My anxiety is a perpetual fear and frustration over the unknown.

My anxiety is the black tar of dread that settles in my stomach and my veins and my thoughts and I can’t shake it from me.

My anxiety is phone calls in the middle of the night of there’s been an accident, or I need you to sit down for this…

My anxiety is waiting for that phone call until four in the morning, but it never comes.

My anxiety is all about waiting for something bad to happen.

My anxiety is learning to stitch myself shut before I fall apart.

My anxiety remembering that incredibly embarrassing thing I did five years ago that no one else remembers or cares about.

My anxiety is what’s going to happen two months from now? A year? A decade?

My anxiety is wanting to plan ahead for the future, even though I know it’s impossible.

My anxiety is waking up early before a job interview while trying to prepare myself for the fact that I probably won’t land the job anyway.

My anxiety is not making a fuss when the good thing actually does happen so I don’t jinx it.

My anxiety is telling my friends not to worry when I’m worried, which seems a little bit redundant.

My anxiety is my shrink telling me that the world isn’t actually going to end despite my concerns to the contrary.

My anxiety is joking how she must complain to her shrink friends about me to let her know how much she means to me.

My anxiety is listening to the same Sia song for the thousandth time in a row because she can scream enough for the both of us.

My anxiety is forcing myself to go to the gym because I know it’s good for me even when I don’t want it.

My anxiety is learning how to use exercise to beat the thoughts and the feelings the emotions into submission.

My anxiety is waiting for each storm to pass on through.

My anxiety is reminding myself how far I’ve come.

My anxiety is wondering if I can still do it the next time around.

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