I wish there was a way for me to really explain what my anxiety and depression is like. I say “my”, because everybody’s is different. People have different triggers, different symptoms, and different ways of coping.
It’s 1:30 in the morning, and I can’t sleep. I am physically sick. My mind is moving 200 mph. I can’t focus. I can’t look at myself.
I am completely broken.
It’s hard when everyone sees you as this smiling, bubbly girl who’s always laughing at something. Hiding all of this emotion behind the smile is so mentally, emotionally, and even physically exhausting. They don’t know that my stomach is in knots and I feel nauseated. They can’t see my thoughts racing in my head so fast that I can’t even comprehend them. They have no clue that I looked at myself in the mirror that morning and hated what I saw. They would have never guessed that I cried myself to sleep the night before.
But I don’t want them to know me that way. I like the image they’ve created of me. I want to be the girl they see.
Because I’m ashamed of what I see.
When I look at my own reflection, it doesn’t take long before I start picking out every single flaw. Every teeny tiny, minute detail that doesn’t even matter.
And it wouldn’t matter, if this was a normal day.
You see, it’s not always like this. Thanks to modern science and therapy, I am able to be that happy person most of the days. But nothing is perfect. When those off days hit, they hit hard. I don’t see them coming. I don’t see the demons sneaking up on me. If I could, I would do whatever I could to stop them from taking over.
I don’t want to feel this way. I HATE feeling this way. I turn into a completely different person and I hate her.
I hate her so much that I feel willing to kill her.
But I can’t.
Because she’s me.
So instead, I have to fight her. I have to push through all of the thoughts, all of the emotions. I have to break free from the bindings.
I HAVE to survive another day.
She hasn’t won yet, and I’m never going to let her.
But she’s also never going to go away.