This is not my own work. It belongs to a remarkable talent by the name of Katie Joy Crawford. She took these photos and crafted these words to describe what it is like to live with anxiety. But it so nails down everything I feel living with this illness. I’ve been trying all week to explain to some of you what has been going on. I know a lot of you are worried, I wish I could tell you what’s happening. Transparency is my thing, but there are some things even I recognize need to stay quiet.
Thank you for reaching out to me, with reassurance, love, hugs and words of support. It means so very much.
I will come out the other side.
No matter how much I resist, it’ll always be right here desperate to hold me, cover me, break down with me. Each day I fight it, “you’re not good for me and you never will be”. but there it is waiting for me when I wake up and eager to hold me as I sleep. It takes my breath away. It leaves me speechless.
They keep telling me to breathe. I can feel my chest moving up and down. Up and down. Up and down. But why does it feel like I’m suffocating? I hold my hand under my nose, making sure there is air. I still can’t breathe.
A glass of water isn’t heavy. It’s almost mindless when you have to pick one up. But what if you couldn’t empty it or set it down? What if you had to support its weight for days… months… years? The weight doesn’t change, but the burden does. At a certain point, you can’t remember how light it used to seem. Sometimes it takes everything in you to pretend it isn’t there. And sometimes, you just have to let it fall.
You were created for me and by me. You were created for my seclusion. You were created by venomous defense. You are made of fear and lies. Fear of unrequited promises and losing trust so seldom given. You’ve been forming my entire life. Stronger and stronger.
Cuts so deep it’s like they’re never going to heal. Pain so real, it’s almost unbearable. I’ve become this… This cut, this wound. All I know is this same pain; sharp breath, empty eyes, shaky hands. If it’s so painful, why let it continue? Unless… Maybe it’s all that you know.
It’s strange – in the pit of your stomach. It’s like when you’re swimming and you want to put your feet down but the water is deeper than you thought. You can’t touch the bottom and your heart skips a beat.
My heart is permanently skipping beats these days. And that’s all I can say.
Thank you for keeping me in your prayers.