Depression has a cunning way of showing you all the bad in the world, hiding all the good, and then portraying this biased view as the ‘true’ version.
I need you to love my anxiety and understand that I am not being emotional for no reason. My anxiety likes to trick me into worrying about many problems, mainly the illogical ones.
I’ve begun to believe it myself. Every time I feel my chest get heavy, my hands get sweaty, my vision become disconnected, I tell myself to suck it up: that it’s all in my head. Maybe it is.
There’s a difference between “not being able to pay the bills” and “irrationally fearing that one day you may not be able to.”
You’re alive. You’re loved. You’re here.
Anxiety doesn’t care about how happy we are or what is going on in our lives. It is always there. No matter what we do, no matter where we are, and no matter who we are with, it can happen at any moment. The fear. The shaking. The images that cross our mind at lightning speed. The panic. The twirling of our hair. The need for more oxygen. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.