A stream of anxious consciousness

My anxious mind never stops. I wake at a four and the momentum gains throughout the day. My body already exhausted before the day begins.

My anxiety keeps me from a lot of things. Five.

My anxiety is present as I’m writing this, wondering if anyone reading actually cares, wondering if I have a shot to make it in life as a writer because writing has become the only thing that feels meaningful anymore. Six.

My anxiety causes me to be afraid of things I shouldn’t be afraid of. I’m afraid of the being happy because there’s so much more to lose. I’m afraid of my mom dying every time I leave her. Seven.

My anxiety speaks to me every minute of every day. Begging me to stay safely under my covers because the world is too broken, too dangerous, too much. Eight.

My anxiety forces me to believe that a routine check up is going to be much worse than it is. Relief comes when it is over. Breathe in. Breathe out. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four.

My anxiety tells me that the pieces of me that were taken away by my traumas will never be found. I will never find peace, I will never heal. Seven.

My anxiety tells me that the unknown caller ID is him. He will never really go away. He will always know where I am. Nine.

My anxiety sits in my stomach and it radiates through my body. Tension grips my muscles and holds on until I finally lay down after talking myself down from checking all of the doors to make sure that they’re locked for the 5th time. Five.

My anxiety creates chaos as I close my eyes. Self talk can only get me so far. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. I can’t keep still, my anxiety racing, filling me up with toxic currents, shaking, crying, desperate to find a way out, desperate for zero. Ten.

My anxiety slowly falls, melting into my subconscious. The Trazodone kicks in. Silence. Rest. Peace. And then the nightmares begin.