invisible illness is an ongoing collaborative zine about anxiety, depression, and other mental illnesses and health issues. curated by audrey mai. we accept submissions on a rolling basis.
ALL SUBMISSIONS ARE USED!
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Looking back at eighth grade, German class was so much easier. It wasnât as complicated as it is now. The teacher was nicer as well, and his exams were not that difficult. Compared to now, I have no idea about the lesson at all!
Which is why, back then, I was pretty confident when faced with German exam. I remember finishing a German mid-term test early. I have double-checked everything, made sure that I used the correct conjugations, and counted the numbers that I wasnât able to do.
Then, I was empty.
There were times when I feel so empty. Like I am merely an empty shell, once a home but now abandoned. At least, itâs better than feeling distant. The feeling of âdistanceâ is the antithesis of âemptinessâ, yet it is very hard to explain, as it is too complex.
(When I listen to Utada Hikaruâs Beautiful World, I feel âdistanceâ, but thatâs all I could say about it.)
In that very classroom, then, I felt âemptinessâ. It was so powerful, thus I decided to calm my mind by stimulating my auditory.
Someone was blowing their nose. What a dirty, slick noise. I heard them throwing the tissues carelessly to the slate under their desk. Then they snorted. It was nothing I could blame. The class was so cold, and living in a tropical country, such temperature was considered inhumane. Besides, it was transition period (the transition between seasons), and, for some reason, weâd all usually get ill.
Click. Click. Click.
The clicking of pen. I didnât know what that indicated. When I click pens, itâs just me fidgeting. I donât do it out of stress or pressure.
Click. Click. Click.
Why, the sound did click something in my head, but I couldnât put my finger to it.
A yawn. Oh, that one came from me. I was sleepy. Everything was so boring, so ordinary, so mundaneâŚI wondered if I could ever escape this prison. I wondered. Is that even possible? Is that? If it is, then why am I falling into this spiral of chagrin? Will there be ground down there? Ah, ah, I just want to disappear already.
The teacher said: fifteen minutes left. Thatâs still long. Someone grunted. They must be having difficulties. Someone cleared their throat. Sore throat? I wish theyâd let us have some cough drops during exam. Someone grunted again, in pleasure this timeâstretching after bending your back for some times is so pleasant! I heard a sneeze. Bless you!
Click. Click. Click.
I feel so small. Is this world even real? I donât know. I donât know. I donât know. I donât want to live. Pointless, pointless, this is all pointless. When I die this wonât matter. None of this will matter. So quiet. This place is so quiet. Is this what heavenâs like? Or rather, is this hell? I donât know. God, tell me what lies out there. Let me fade away, please, please.
The bell rings. A knell? Is that a knell?
written by: Zodiac R. (Zodie)
twitter: @icryoverships
ao3: @zodiacriver
DEPRESSION has been like a small bit of darkness within me that slowly grows and grows until itâs all thatâs left. when Iâm depressed my whole world transitions from a spectrum of vivid colors to solely black and white. sometimes the rare day comes along where I feel an ounce of happiness creeping in, and then just like a flash itâs gone⌠the darkness has prevailed once again. things that I once loved to do are worth nothing in my mind. at times, I feel absolutely nothing at allâŚ
but thatâs just depression.
ADHD makes me feel like my brain will never stop. Itâs constantly running a marathon that never seems to end. I go through my day struggling to achieve anything because I just. canât. focus. my legs are constantly bouncing, I canât stop it. I have to lock up my medications because the pills that help me function on a basic level are abused by high school and college students. half of the time I feel like an idiot, because my illnesses send my grades tumbling down...
and thatâs just ADHD.
ANXIETY makes me tired. my mind and body are always on high alert waiting for the next threat, a threat that doesnât even exist. my heart is constantly racing, my palms are always damp, my hands are always grasping for something to hold onto even when I know the only thing to be afraid of is myself. I feel unsafe. I feel like Iâm a ticking time bomb waiting to explode at any secondâŚ
and thatâs just anxiety.
OCD is like my anxiety overdosed on steroids. contrary to popular belief my room is not immaculate, but if one drawer is opened a millimeter more than another I crumble into a million pieces. my mind is constantly racing with words and phrases that repeat and repeat and repeat until theyâre permanently etched into my brain. images of my own death flash back and forth like clockwork. I canât go a day without having an intrusive thought tell me that Iâm worthless and that I deserve to dieâŚ
This song is basically about me growing up in a physically abusive household and dealing with pretty intense phases of depression and bad anxiety nowadays.It's also about hurting or pushing people away during times where I've felt particularly low.
A song about being entirely fed up with backsliding into depression time and time again and desperately wanting it to stop. Is meant to be of a more hopeful tone.
A slowcore track with a lot of glitchy synths about gender dysphoria. I find myself wishing I looked more androgynous a lot but often I also seem to be alright with
being a dude and I don't know what to make of this. Am I just a cis guy that would like to wear make-up and girlier clothes?
Does that make me genderfluid or nonbinary? This song basically deals with these questions and a strong sense of anxiety I feel whenever these feelings come up.
Anxiety is a state of ongoingness, a continuum. It fluctuates. There are good days, bad days, ok days, apathetic days, catastrophic days, unremarkable days. Its only on those worse days that we remember âoh yeah, I have anxiety.â When your breath catches, pulse quickens, thoughts cycle. But anxiety isnât a periodic affliction but a chronic condition (note: not disease, disposition perhaps).
What happens in these in-between moments? The liminal spaces of anxiety that are bookended by panic attacks. What manifests in the meantime?
I like to think of routines and habits related to my specific strain of anxiety as rituals; talismans to ward off evil.
150mg of sertraline every morning before a shower
50-100mg of clonazepam as needed
Avoid movie theaters in the fall months
Hide posts from news feed
Visit the bookstore and run your fingers over the spines
Browse the record store, flipping through the electronic section
Masturbating gives a temporary rush of endorphins to the brain (so does chocolate)
Donât go home if you can help it
Video games require your undivided attention without much personal risk
Cut away the dead skin around the cuticles with a nail clipper
After a while things begin to shift. As Iâve become better at identifying what triggers anxiety and what assuages it, what brings me pleasure, Iâve taken things off the list, added others, and shifted their importance. Sometimes the subway ad is unavoidable, but donât overlook the act of walking past it even if the afterimage lingers. Itâs the little victories that you miss.
Donât get it twisted though. None of this is a cure all. This isnât a stock photo of a woman eating salad who chose to just be happy.
Embrace your rituals; they are a part of me as much as my anxiety. What brings me joy also tamps down fear. I end up finding it best to not speak of my phobia in concrete terms. These intentional vagueties acting as a defense mechanism. This imbues the source of my phobia with a sort of mystic omniscience, like the fear of death that propels us, but is dispersed over a lifetime.
Force distributed over a wide area hurts less. My father would explain this physics principle to me by first shoving my arm with an open palm, then placing the tip of his elbow on the same spot and drive the tip of it into me by hitting it with his other hand like a hammer coming down on a nail. Surface area; the division between acute pain and general anxiety.
Over time consistency brings comfort. There is pleasure to be found in routine.
written by: Matt
tumblr: @skinnymctoothpick
twitter: @skinnymctoothpick
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izzy806
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2087
germansingergirl