It happens to me everyday. Breathless, chest tight, the overwhelming feeling of dread. I'm consumed with a worry so overbearing, I literally feel trapped between two walls that continue to close in on me. I hold my breath and shut my eyelids so tight I start to feel slight pain from the strain. I'm never sure what I expect to happen. Maybe I'm hoping that when I open my eyes and begin to breathe once again, that the worry will disappear and I will be back to normal once again. My mind is over taken with recurring thoughts of despair and hopelessness. Worry attacking me tirelessly as I panic for a solution to the panic I felt initially.
It wasn't until recently, as I entered into early adulthood, that I could put a name to big bad monster haunting me endlessly. As a young girl I could not understand why I had such trouble falling asleep or remaining sleep throughout the night. I thought it was a fault of mine because I seemed to be the only one with the problem. I'd actually get into trouble as a child for not being asleep when I was supposed to. The first thought that comes to mind when dealing with a sleepless is never mental illness but always mischief. Apparently I was supposed to just lay down, close my eyes, and I would magically fall asleep. That memo obviously never reached my brain.
As young as five years old, I remember having a chronic issue with falling asleep and it never got much better as I got older. Now at 21, I find my sleeping habits to be a less problematic. I don't find myself laying awake until the sun creeps back into the sky as often thanks to the drug induced sleep I get every night, but still no cure. I'm not new to substance abuse, not to say I have some sort of control problem, but sneaking into my parents liquor stash every now and then at 17 just to boost my mood is definitely substance abuse. Once I went to college drinking became an everyday thing whether I had class in the morning or an assignment to work on. It didn't matter. I maintained myself and my grades during my alcohol, but eventually my body could no longer handle my high consumption. It started with just really bad hangovers that made me regret my actions from the night before. Then from really bad hangovers, I began to get ill while drinking. My stomach just couldn't seem to handle all of the abuse it once endured no matter how little I had, no matter how much I had to eat, and no matter if I mixed or not. Just plain old sick every time I took a sip of anything.
I still drink today, but my tolerance has forced me to be a brown only type of girl (not a terrible thing at all). As I transitioned from drinking a whole lot to drinking a whole lot less, I discovered weed on the way. At first it was just a remedy I utilized to help prevent a terrible hangover the next morning or lessen the damaged caused from all the drinking I did the night before. Today weed is my everything. My medicine, my best friend, my comfort at night when I'm alone and I just can't seem to quiet my boisterous mind. It's the nice warm hug when I'm without a pair of strong arms and a chest to embrace me. I literally use it for everything. You name it, can't eat? Smoke. Can't sleep? Smoke. Cranky, agitated, near to having a violent panic attack or already there? Well smoke.
The anxiety monster increases in it's strength each and everyday. I find myself more bitter and angry. An aggression that I never before possessed is now out in full forced waiting to be poked like a sleeping bear. My fuse now short, I lash out at anyone within in sight over just about anything, even if I can rationalize how silly my reaction is or not. I don't know what's happening to me. It's terrifying to watch your sanity deteriorate when you feel alone and you're not sure what action could make for a solution. I've tried to dabble in various methods that have been proven to help a large portion of people better deal with their anxiety. Yoga, tea, meditation, prayer, writing, talking, and any other form of physical therapy. I find that it helps me, but for so long and eventually I am overcome with the ridiculously strong need to elevate beyond my sober conscious mind. The positive affirmations won't keep the dark thoughts away and it surely won't keep my mind at peace.
I find that enjoy reality more when my mind is able to escape from it. I find that in this trying time when I want nothing more than to achieve happiness I end up standing in my own way. I feed my monster. I help it to grow and manifest into a darker force. I sit here and I hurt from the daily tasks of trying to overcome trauma and pain. I struggle with finding solace in the promise of the future. I realize that I stand in my own way, blocking blessings and closing myself off from the light. I beg and plead on hands and knees to the heavens that the divine will have mercy on my tortured soul and rescue me from destruction. I scream and cry and curse the universe for forsaking me and yet I forget to take responsibility for the continuous suffering I seem to endure.
I have a way out, I have had a way out and I still decide to sit front row to this horrible drama starring me. The more I deal, the longer I find myself trapped inside the tiny walls of my own head, I realize that I find comfort in my pain and some sort of safety in the misery. It's been apart of my life for so long that it is as if being in pain is an extension of me. It has become who I am. It's what people know me for. The desire to clear the air and reveal my true self to the world dies down along with every dream or every ounce of motivation I have ever had. I disgust the things that once brought me joy and I never took the time to question why. I lost all my hope for the future and I have embraced it. I've accepted that my life is to be lived in the dark scary corners where love is absent and loneliness is inevitable. I'm young and tomorrow always brings about new and promising possibilities, but how do you look forward to the next day when your spirit has been crushed. How will you know when to appreciate anything in all of its wonder and glory if all you find yourself doing is worrying how long you have before it's ripped right from your hands. So instead of positivity and a beautiful future that I would love to embrace, I remain in my dark corner surrounded by my demons feeling some sort of sanctity from the big scary monsters who have never been inconsistent and never changed pace. I know what to expect. There's no room for disappointment.
It wasn't until recently, as I entered into early adulthood, that I could put a name to big bad monster haunting me endlessly. As a young girl I could not understand why I had such trouble falling asleep or remaining sleep throughout the night. I thought it was a fault of mine because I seemed to be the only one with the problem. I'd actually get into trouble as a child for not being asleep when I was supposed to. The first thought that comes to mind when dealing with a sleepless is never mental illness but always mischief. Apparently I was supposed to just lay down, close my eyes, and I would magically fall asleep. That memo obviously never reached my brain.
As young as five years old, I remember having a chronic issue with falling asleep and it never got much better as I got older. Now at 21, I find my sleeping habits to be a less problematic. I don't find myself laying awake until the sun creeps back into the sky as often thanks to the drug induced sleep I get every night, but still no cure. I'm not new to substance abuse, not to say I have some sort of control problem, but sneaking into my parents liquor stash every now and then at 17 just to boost my mood is definitely substance abuse. Once I went to college drinking became an everyday thing whether I had class in the morning or an assignment to work on. It didn't matter. I maintained myself and my grades during my alcohol, but eventually my body could no longer handle my high consumption. It started with just really bad hangovers that made me regret my actions from the night before. Then from really bad hangovers, I began to get ill while drinking. My stomach just couldn't seem to handle all of the abuse it once endured no matter how little I had, no matter how much I had to eat, and no matter if I mixed or not. Just plain old sick every time I took a sip of anything.
I still drink today, but my tolerance has forced me to be a brown only type of girl (not a terrible thing at all). As I transitioned from drinking a whole lot to drinking a whole lot less, I discovered weed on the way. At first it was just a remedy I utilized to help prevent a terrible hangover the next morning or lessen the damaged caused from all the drinking I did the night before. Today weed is my everything. My medicine, my best friend, my comfort at night when I'm alone and I just can't seem to quiet my boisterous mind. It's the nice warm hug when I'm without a pair of strong arms and a chest to embrace me. I literally use it for everything. You name it, can't eat? Smoke. Can't sleep? Smoke. Cranky, agitated, near to having a violent panic attack or already there? Well smoke.
The anxiety monster increases in it's strength each and everyday. I find myself more bitter and angry. An aggression that I never before possessed is now out in full forced waiting to be poked like a sleeping bear. My fuse now short, I lash out at anyone within in sight over just about anything, even if I can rationalize how silly my reaction is or not. I don't know what's happening to me. It's terrifying to watch your sanity deteriorate when you feel alone and you're not sure what action could make for a solution. I've tried to dabble in various methods that have been proven to help a large portion of people better deal with their anxiety. Yoga, tea, meditation, prayer, writing, talking, and any other form of physical therapy. I find that it helps me, but for so long and eventually I am overcome with the ridiculously strong need to elevate beyond my sober conscious mind. The positive affirmations won't keep the dark thoughts away and it surely won't keep my mind at peace.
I find that enjoy reality more when my mind is able to escape from it. I find that in this trying time when I want nothing more than to achieve happiness I end up standing in my own way. I feed my monster. I help it to grow and manifest into a darker force. I sit here and I hurt from the daily tasks of trying to overcome trauma and pain. I struggle with finding solace in the promise of the future. I realize that I stand in my own way, blocking blessings and closing myself off from the light. I beg and plead on hands and knees to the heavens that the divine will have mercy on my tortured soul and rescue me from destruction. I scream and cry and curse the universe for forsaking me and yet I forget to take responsibility for the continuous suffering I seem to endure.
I have a way out, I have had a way out and I still decide to sit front row to this horrible drama starring me. The more I deal, the longer I find myself trapped inside the tiny walls of my own head, I realize that I find comfort in my pain and some sort of safety in the misery. It's been apart of my life for so long that it is as if being in pain is an extension of me. It has become who I am. It's what people know me for. The desire to clear the air and reveal my true self to the world dies down along with every dream or every ounce of motivation I have ever had. I disgust the things that once brought me joy and I never took the time to question why. I lost all my hope for the future and I have embraced it. I've accepted that my life is to be lived in the dark scary corners where love is absent and loneliness is inevitable. I'm young and tomorrow always brings about new and promising possibilities, but how do you look forward to the next day when your spirit has been crushed. How will you know when to appreciate anything in all of its wonder and glory if all you find yourself doing is worrying how long you have before it's ripped right from your hands. So instead of positivity and a beautiful future that I would love to embrace, I remain in my dark corner surrounded by my demons feeling some sort of sanctity from the big scary monsters who have never been inconsistent and never changed pace. I know what to expect. There's no room for disappointment.
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