A happy memory.
A happy memory.

What’s In My Mug: Organic Serenity Now (DavidsTea)

Dear Anxiety,

You are an asshole.

I don’t like you.

You come around when I least expect it. Or, at least, you used to. Now I expect it more than you might think. You tell me things like my headache could be more than just a headache and my brain is going to explode. You tell me that people don’t love me. That I will be alone. Always alone.

You make my thoughts turn into spirals. You make me check things over and over.

You tell me lots of things and I wind up questioning myself.

You make me over analyze text messages and emails. You make me fearful of responses, or lack thereof. You make me question the things I say to people, even if nothing was amiss in the first place.

Right now, I know those things are lies. But that only lasts until you come back.

You make it nearly impossible for me to figure out if something is a big deal or just a little thing you are telling me is a big deal.

I know your presence isn’t as bad for me as it is for other people. I’ve seen their stories and hell, you remind me of them sometimes too, telling me that my situation doesn’t matter in comparison.

But I still don’t like you and it still sucks.

You are not welcome here.

I don’t want you to come back.

But you are here now. You are here telling me things that I don’t want to hear right now. I never want to hear them. You are my worst enemy.

It’s not okay the fact that you keep coming around. I might not be able to prevent it, since it’s not like you are a real person and I can change the locks on my apartment. I wish I could. You know what I can do, though?

I can get up in the morning. I can look at the pictures and paintings on my wall and remind myself there is good out there. I can reflect on happy memories and try to make more. I can remind myself that there are people who care about me, even if it’s hard to believe it sometimes. I can acknowledge that my excessive worry is not my fault—it’s yours.

I can do the things that bring me some measure of comfort. I can reassure myself as much as possible.

I can put this up so that others know they are not the only ones out there, even if the thought of people I know reading it makes me worry all over again.

I can say that you are an asshole and you do not own me. I know I am more than just the worries you cause. I know every time I feel joy, well, it is proof I am stronger than you.

Jessica

~~**~~

Note: I tend to worry a lot. Frankly, it’s excessive. No, I have not been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder but I am almost 100% sure that if I were to go and see a doctor about it, I would end up with a diagnosis. That said, I know my case would be mild compared to others I have heard of. My mind is trying to tell me right now that because it’s not as bad that I don’t matter. It’s entirely possible that some people would agree. At the same time, part of me is also trying to say that’s a lie and it does matter, no matter what.

With all of this said, I wanted to write this post because I am trying to be a bit better at managing my anxiety and writing things down really helps me out. And maybe there are others in a similar position to me, and maybe my posting about it might help them a little. We’ll see.

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