I can think of about 800 things that I need to be doing right now but my old friends Anxiety and Depression unexpectedly came home to visit. They’re not the kind of guests that you would enjoy having over because they demand all of your undivided attention. They’re the kind of guests that come in, take over and dictate your entire schedule for the remainder of their stay. They don’t give a certain date of their departure, so you must prepare to be in it for the long haul.
I’m supposed to be cleaning and packing for our move this weekend but Anxiety says I don’t have enough time to do everything before Saturday, so what’s the point in doing anything at all? Depression is reminding me how much I love this house and how badly I don’t want to leave, so she’s telling me that I should sit right here in this chair because I won’t be able to sit in this room for much longer.
I know I have a lot left to do at the new house to get ready, so I need to get things taken care of here first but Anxiety says there’s too much on my to-do list so I need to rethink all of it before I begin. I need to start organizing things to pack but I don’t have enough boxes for everything yet, so Anxiety says I should wait until I have them all together. I have a mountain of clothes that need to be washed and stored away, but Anxiety says that there’s too much to get done so Depression suggests that I put it off for another day.
My boyfriend is working long hours a few cities away, so Depression is telling me that I am incapable of doing all of this stuff by myself. During our last move, I was surrounded by friends and family offering helping hands to get everything done. This time I’m almost two hours away and have to handle it on my own, but Depression tells me that if they really cared, they would’ve come to help me anyway. Anxiety chimes in and reminds me that they’ve probably talked about this among themselves, and they think it’s entertaining to see how well I do under this kind of pressure. Depression agrees and says that if I don’t try, then I won’t fail. Anxiety nods but reminds me that I’ll fail anyway regardless of what I decide to do. Here is where I settle between my rock and my hard place.
I’ll likely stay here for the remainder of my day, fighting with these demons that perch on each of my shoulders. When my boyfriend gets home and nothing is done, he’ll have questions for me that I don’t have answers to, because he doesn’t hear the voices like I do. He doesn’t understand how these conclusions are formed. He’ll be frustrated and agitated by my existence and lack of motivation, but he won’t understand that I am, too. He’ll tell me that he doesn’t get why everything always has to fall on him, but he doesn’t see the weight that bears heavy on my shoulders. He’ll storm away, leaving me to hear the bitter words of, “I told you so,” by Anxiety and Depression once again.
They’re the only ones that never leave me.