Anxiety isn’t cute.
I wish I knew how to explain to people that anxiety isn’t something that you want. It’s not something you just wake up one day and decide to have. It’s not romantic and it’s not cute. It’s fucking scary and it’s absolute, unending, crushing instability that you wish you could rip from yourself. I don’t know where people got this insane idea that anxiety is this cute little quirk that makes them more desirable to the opposite sex, but if you really want to have it that badly, take mine. I could do without it for a while. People with real anxiety issues don’t tell anyone about the crushing weight that settles on them because they don’t want to seem as if they are one of those people who tries to romanticize the idea of a mental disorder like it’s something that we can fix with a kiss on the forehead and a boyfriend’s hoodie. I would rather pour acid on myself than have people see the panic attacks like the one I had tonight at work. At least then I could scream like I want to and people wouldn’t question it or act like I was crazy. If you have even an inkling that anxiety is some romantic, adorable thing, I want you to imagine this for a moment: Imagine you are standing in the middle of your work day, doing something as meaningless as sorting clothing. You’re working alone. No one is bothering you, no one is near you. It’s something you do every single day and there is nothing different happening. Suddenly and without warning or reason, the room starts to spin. Your chest gets tight, you feel like you can’t breathe. and your whole body starts to shake. You feel like you’re losing your grip on reality. You can’t calm down and you can’t bring yourself back from the edge. There’s no reason for it. Nothing happened. Nothing. You were thinking about something completely trivial - Christmas and your family holiday. You rush to the restroom, trying to make sure your face doesn’t betray even half of what you are feeling. And in the restroom, you huff and puff and lean against the wall and try with all your might to calm down and stop sweating and stop panicking over absolutely nothing. You try for what feels like hours but is something more like five minutes. And then even though the only thing you’ve succeeded in doing is straightening your clothes and making the room stop spinning, you have to go back to your work, even with a heavy chest and ringing in your ears, because if you stay gone too long, someone will know you’re crazy or think you’re wasting time. Do you really want this? Do you really want this to be your reality every day? Because this is what I go through. This was my night at work. This is what people with real and lasting anxiety issues go through every single day of their lives. You can try to romanticize something as hellish as someone’s every day demise. You can try to make yourself seem adorable by acting awkward and shy when you really aren’t. But for God’s sake don’t wish for something that real people everywhere would set themselves on fire to get rid of every single day. Don’t ask to have something that envelopes people in complete nothingness for hours, days, weeks on end, something that takes years of medication and therapy and conditioning just to control. And if you do suffer from this hellish misery, please know that you aren’t alone and there are others who struggle with this every day. You aren’t crazy. You aren’t a baby. It’s real and it’s there. I am sorry you are dealing with this plight. You are stronger than this and you will make it through. I promise.
