I am never alone. Even if the house was empty, the streets were dead, the city quiet, I will never be alone. Anxiety is the friend that never leaves my side, always looking out for me by telling me about all the possible things that could happen. She seems so trusting, so informed, she speaks with such authority. From the moment I wake, anxiety is there. Before my eyes are even open, she’s there. Whispering.
“You’re going to be late.”
I have three hours?
“Doesn’t matter, you’re going to be late.”
Okay, I’ll get ready.
“Don’t wear that. It makes you look fat.”
Well, why should that matter?
“It does. To everyone. And it will determine whether or not your worth talking to.”
That’s ridiculous, it’s just extra body weight, what does that matter?
“It does. To everyone. And you look fat.”
Fine. Maybe doing my make up with make me feel better.
“You’re breaking out. Your eyeliner isn’t even. Your eyebrows aren’t the same. Your nose is so crooked, like a witches nose. And yes, its the main focus of your face. Foundation won’t help that.”
Well, I tried.
“Yeah…and its hell of a lot better than no makeup. You definitely should never let anyone see you without makeup, at least not anyone you ever want to see again. And now you’ve taken too much time getting ready. You’re going to be late.”
Depression is worse. Depression comes disguised as the sympathetic friend. They know anxiety has been beating you up, so they offer things disguised as comfort and happiness, but what they’re really feeding you is poison.
“I know you’ve had a rough day, here, let’s order pizza to make you feel better.”
Well, I’m not really hungry, I don’t have the money, and I’ve been gaining weight.
“But pizza makes you happy. What price can you put on happiness? Besides if you get worried about money or your weight, just order more pizza, it’ll make you feel better.”
Honestly I should probably get out of the house, maybe go for a walk, try to clear my head.
“No, that won’t help. What you need is a rest. Stay in bed and sleep.”
But that’s all I’ve been doing. It hasn’t been helping.
“Oh well, then just stay in and order a movie. Movies make you happy.”
But I don’t have money to spend on that, plus I’ve already ordered 5 movies on my credit card this week.
“Oh well, don’t worry. If you get really worried, you can always sleep. Then you won’t be worried.”
Maybe I should try reaching out to a friend.
To my family?
Maybe, I’ll just stay in bed.
“Great! Let’s order a pizza and a movie, that’ll make you feel better.”
I have come to a point in my life where I have no one. I gave up on superficial relationships that I realized were unhealthy, and have been left with no one. I want to get out, make some new friends, find less toxic people to rebuild my circle. But my depression and anxiety take me by the hand and lead me away, all the while telling me the many reasons why that’ll never work. I have Stockholm syndrome with my own illness. I have sought out counseling. I am trying to make small changes every day. But after 25+ years of thinking this way, it’s like having tunnel vision. Logically I know life can get better, but this is all I’ve ever felt. And it’s hard to trust what you know, when your emotions are overpowering. I am trying to just hold it together when I constantly feel like I’m overflowing. It’s especially hard when you have a child who is watching you. Not only is there added pressure to handle your shit, but this tiny person is learning how to handle their shit by watching you. Just as I learned from my parents.
I am writing this now as a way to calm my current anxiety. I’ve been awake for about an hour now, and I feel like I’ve chugged about 5 energy drinks. My anxiety makes me depressed, and my depression makes me anxious. I don’t know which is the bigger problem, or which I need to address first. It’s like trying to figure out which came first, the chicken or the egg? All I know is I’m the most hyped up depressed person I know. And my mask has worn thin. I have no one in my life I can go to for emotional support, and the depression and anxiety are keeping me from forming any sort of real connection with anyone. It’s like a cancer, acting as a doctor, purposely keeping me sick. Poisoning me with thoughts and emotions, draining me of what energy I have left. Until I don’t want to be here anymore. It’s not that I want to die, I am just so scared to live.