I love writing. And while I’m blessed to have a job where I actually get paid to weave together words, writing day after day about all that’s wrong in the world gets tiring.
So, I started this blog as an outlet. A place where I can share things that make me happy or bring me relief. But for the past few days I’ve struggled to find the beauty in those things.
I’ve kinda struggled to do everything.
That’s the ugliness of how my anxiety works. One day I’m in control and I feel like I can conquer the world.
But then the next – or the next and the next and the next – anxiety vengefully rears its head.
Jealous, it beats me up and strips me down. Leaving me vulnerable. Exposed. Bare.
It backs me into a small corner of my mind. A space where social interactions feel consuming. Where just getting out of bed feels like an accomplishment. Where the things I need to accomplish during the day feel impossible.
Some days it robs me of my breath, leaving me gasping for air. It attempts to steal my peace, my confidence and my courage.
It tries to make me shrink inside myself and blend into the background, as if the person I’ve worked to become is all a ruse.
It seeks to make me question the small progress I think I’ve made. To make me believe my efforts at treating it are done in vain.
It’s goal is to make me give in, lay down and accept it.
But the thing is…I’m not going to give in. I’m not going to accept it. And even when my anxiety is lurking around the corner, hiding and waiting for me to let my guard down…I’ll still be ready to fight it.