Anxiety and The Deathly Silence

Sometimes I want to scream. Sometimes I want to cry. Other times I find myself trapped in anxiety’s grip, unable to get any words out.

Withdrawn. Isolated. Unable to seek help. Sound familiar?

Not only do I feel physical fear at the thought of discussing my anxiety with anyone around me, I find myself becoming more and more preoccupied with the thought of saying something wrong, saying something that will get me in trouble.

The deathly silence.

I can see myself becoming withdrawn. People ask me how my day was. 

“Fine.”

If I say anything else it will get back to my boss that I moaned about my day. And we can’t have that.

But I can’t stop. Anxiety is slowly taking over every single cell of my brain and I’m filled with terror at the thought of speaking to my friends. And it breaks my heart. But I’m scared.

Other times I will spend the whole night ruminating over something I said to my housemate. I shouldn’t have said that. I should not have opened up.

I will then spend the next 4-6 hours solidly considering every single worst case scenario that could possibly come from me saying that sentence. 

And then I make my vows to my anxiety. I will not do it again, I promise. This won’t happen again. I’ll stop telling my friends how I’m feeling; it will only go wrong.

And the deathly silence continues.

Anxiety: how did I let myself slip?

Right now I would describe myself well within anxiety’s clutches. And I can’t see an escape. 

But how did I let this happen?

I watched myself get worse every day, but I brushed it off. It’s not anxiety, I’m just a “worrier”. I would fight and fight against my own thoughts until I couldn’t fight anymore. It’s not anxiety. It’s not anxiety.

So I really do blame myself for slipping into anxiety’s welcoming embrace. I saw all the signs and couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t get help when I should’ve, I was ignorant.

And I guess that’s what I want to just send out a warning about. If I’d have seen a friend or family member going through or exhibiting the same symptoms I often experience, I would’ve sought help so quickly. So why is it different for my own brain? Do I not deserve the help? “Treat your body like a temple” and all that crap.

I was lucky in that I saw myself slipping. People often don’t. And I still didn’t do anything about it. So please, anyone out there debating whether to say something to their friends and family about how they’re feeling, debating whether to book that doctors appointment, do it. 

Now is the time to fight.

World War Three: Anxiety vs Reality

Some days I’m so good with myself.

“You’re being absolutely ridiculous.”

“That’s never going to happen.”

And I carry on with my day.

At the moment those days seem few and far between.

Anxiety and reality are in a constant battle. Everything around you is telling you that everything is fine. Your friends, family, your environment. Everything is fine.

……so why am I panicking.

Because anxiety is speeding towards reality with guns blazing. Nothing is fine. You’re in real danger, anxiety screams. Run.

Anxiety tears you in half inside. Mental torture. You know everything’s fine. You know it. But what if it’s not? Something is telling me it’s not.

Your brain is working overtime over the simplest of things. Stepping outside. Making a drink. Watching a film. Basic activities are made into unachievable goals whilst the war continues in your head.

And that. That. Is why I’m exhausted.

The Anxiety of Anxiety

In the midst of an anxiety attack I’m often furious with myself.

Why haven’t I spoken to anyone about this yet? My heart is about to explode out of my chest, I’ve cried all the tears I can muster, and I am rock bottom. And I still don’t have the courage to seek help.

Tomorrow I’m booking a doctors appointment. I’ve had enough.

And then tomorrow comes. I wake up, it’s a beautiful day. I sit and have breakfast with my housemates, laughing and joking. I feel safe, secure.

….I can’t book a doctors appointment. They won’t believe me. Look at me at the moment, I feel great. I don’t have anxiety, I don’t need to go to the doctors.

I’ve been in this cycle for around 2 years now. Terrified no-one will believe me, they’ll laugh at my pathetic worries. Sometimes I write a script for myself. This is exactly what I will say to the doctor tomorrow. But I can’t find the words. There are no words to describe how I feel during an anxiety attack.

So I’ll continue to fight with myself for now. I hope one day I’ll find the courage to tell someone, anyone, about how I’m really feeling. And I strongly believe I’m not the only person in this situation. Anxiety has a strong grip.

Anxiety + Shopping

I’m sure online shopping was invented just for me.

My Brain Battle begins as soon as the idea of shopping with friends is discussed. What will I wear? I’m so much uglier than my friends. Everyone will look at me. I don’t think I’ll go.

No. I’m better than this. I can do this. I’m going.

So we’re out. Everyone’s obviously staring at me. Laughing at the ridiculous outfit I chose to put on today. 

Shall we grab food while we’re here? HAHAHA. Eating in front of people?! I don’t think so. I hear my anxiety laughing away in my ear.

Each shop I go into I can feel my heart rate increasing. I just shouldn’t have come. I don’t even know why I’m worried. I just feel myself panicking for absolutely no reason. I’m ruining it for all my friends.

I really need some new clothes for work but my friends are judging everything I even look at. I come home with nothing yet again. Another failed trip.

I’m sure online shopping was invented just for me.

“It’s not that big a deal.”

If I had a pound for every time I’d heard that…. I’d probably be out of my never ending overdraft.

The fact that mental health stigma still exists gives me more anxiety than my own anxiety. Knowing that people will never understand that I can’t shut my brain off, am often so tortured by my own thoughts that I can’t leave my house, is heart-breaking. 

A few weeks ago I had an argument with my friend. Nothing major, those small fights you’re bound to have after years of friendship. I’d seek help, assuming anyone I spoke to would reciprocate my panic. But oh, those people do not suffer from the Brain Battle. And so I felt the tears filling my eyes. What have I done? Are we ever gonna be friends again? She hates me. She’s gonna turn everyone against me. Everyone’s talking about me.

“It’s not that big a deal.”

I lay awake that whole night. Repeating the words over and over, as I’d heard so many times. It’s not that big a deal.

But my anxiety had full control and wouldn’t let go. Everything you’ve ever confided in her, she’s told them. Everyone knows. She never liked you anyway.

“It’s not that big a deal.”

My friends are great. They will drop everything and help me when I’m asking those stupid anxiety-induced questions. But there’s only so many times they can say it.

It’s not that big a deal.

Those words have lost meaning.