Your eyes speak of perceived truth. There is such clarity in them, I cannot relate. You think the answers are so evident and you believe that the problems are self-constructed. It’s all in your head are the words your lips form.
I don’t completely disagree with you. I am sure to some degree it is just all in my head as you so bluntly stated. I shared the same sentiments once before. When the misery first began, I was no different than you. The mantra in my head was I’m just overthinking. If I just changed my thoughts, I will be fine. Cognitive behavioral therapy was my first line of defense. And it worked for minor issues. Initial hesitation or discomfort could be prevented with a few minutes of reflection. I created that space between myself and the stimulus. I dissected my perception, my feelings and chose my response accordingly. I thought I finally found my solution. I thought I was finally emotionally equipped to handle all of life’s distresses.
But I was wrong. The truth your eyes speak of isn’t so simple. It’s a bit more complicated than you articulated. It’s so hard to explain my anxieties to you when it’s not all in my head; it’s also all over my body. What happens when there is a disconnect between the mind and body? What happens when your mind is at peace but your body is in duress? What happens when conventional solutions lose their effect?
Positive thoughts will not stop my heart from racing to the point where it feels like I am having a heart attack. Positive thoughts will not stop the adrenaline pumping through me at such a pace that I feel as if I am in a life or death situation. Positive thoughts will not stop the paralysis that overcomes my body leaving me helpless on the floor in the fetal position.
It’s so hard to explain my anxieties to you when I no longer know why they occur. I tried the conventional methods. I did the soul searching and reflection. I dealt with the childhood baggage and emotional limitations. I thought I was finally happy until one day it returned. There was no reason. There was no crisis and that’s what makes it the worst. It’s so hard to explain my anxieties to you, to speak to you when my throat swells up and my airways become constricted. It’s so hard to explain the origins when they themselves are mysterious to me. It’s so hard to explain my anxieties to you when I know their existence is irrational. I can’t pinpoint the why, I don’t have the answers. I just know the feeling, that helpless dread that renders me in defeat.