I Talk to My Manic Self : I call her anxiety
Anxiety is an intense feeling, a state of anxiousness, perhaps, but to me she is a person. A person who has been my constant companion every day. She keeps me awake at night; sometimes she visits at 3: a. m., 4: a. m., and even my 7: a. m. class. She is persistent, I always hear her side; her perspective on things. She creates a great comparison of her world versus the reality.
Anxiety follows my schedule, morning to night. Sometimes, I look at her and I feel she is up to something again. She whispers a word or a phrase, and I feel scared and nervous wondering whether I brought my purse, or do I lock the door before I leave?
Anxiety gives judgment to every person she meets. Most of the time, she observes every little thing a person does, even if it’s not intentional, anxiety assumes differently from what it is.
I remember, there was one guy who was furious because I spilled his coffee. Of course, he got mad. It was early morning and according to anxiety, I was such a stupid person. I know that the guy may not have meant what he said, but anxiety will always throw a pity party. Because of anxiety, I would feel bad and overthink things on why I messed up, all through the day.
I notice how quick she is to create thoughts; I would never think I can create myself. But these thoughts, these lengthy words she puts inside my head, are not always pleasant.
These thoughts seem to target an ugly part of me; an ugly and insecure part of me. But I cannot blame anxiety, what she notices and pinpoints is somehow true or became true. I admit that I let her stay for most of the day because I kind of got used to her.
I got used to her rants, her suggestions, her judgments, and even the ugly side of her. She became the most consistent person who stayed with me for a long period of time.
Ah! I forgot to tell you, anxiety is not just a person, sometimes she transforms, she could be a different size and shape at the same time, she could be a face, a tear, a word, and an object.
What I know of her, is that she is someone who knows you, mostly the uglier part of you. A part of being, that is structured to criticize every little thing you do, and every word you speak. She is a place as well, I always find her in the room, in a paper or even my pen. She is a paper with lessons I struggle to understand and she is a pen who writes sentences she could not verbally express. She could be with me right now, suggesting how I should write this blog.
It is hard to be around her, honestly but I managed to control her at times, even though she visits at the most unnecessary time. She even told me one time, “Maybe you are not meant for this path, and even though you tried your best, maybe you are not enough of something great.” That’s her typical anxiety. She is a nuisance. She almost told me I cannot make it.
With her around, I cannot do a simple task, nor can I keep up with everyone’s pace.
You might think this is a serious situation, but to me, this is simply describing anxiety and how she is to me. I have wanted to talk about her for a long period of time; this blog gave me the strength to talk about something I deal with every day.
But how do people treat anxiety? Do they talk to her on Friday nights, or do they experience her on 3: a. m. thoughts, or is she simply passing by on our traveling hours?
I think, for someone who has witnessed her for almost 10 years, she does not need (urgent) therapy, or a guidance counselor to check up on her from time to time. She is a negative person, I agree, but she is a silent one who secretly needs something.
The antidote to negativity is not positivity
Positivity tells an anxious person that there is no reason to feel scared. However, warmth asks the anxious person if they want a cup of coffee or an ice-cream while talking about what happened today.
Do you say to anxiety when you are confronted with it, “here have a cup of warmth?”
This is something that I hope everyone must acknowledge, as I realize my anxiety secretly needs warmth. She does not need long hours with someone with a white robe and a monitoring sheet to assess if she feels sad. Of course, anxiety has felt that but instead of hearing it from someone, tell me, why no ask her yourself? Do you say to anxiety when you are confronted with it, here have a cup of warmth?
Living with anxiety
The final realization I have about anxiety is that she is very hard to love. I don’t understand her most of the time, but I love her whatever seasons may come. I believe that, although she is a negative person, she is the strongest woman I have ever met.
Despite how dull or how heavy the day is, she would fight tooth and nail for her dreams and I believe she is capable of transforming into another form, a motivator, a strong person, and most importantly, a determined person. She is very hard to deal with and she has a lot of flaws but that is anxiety. That is what I call her; anxiety is me, for now.
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