My anxiety is not beautiful, and it never will be, but it makes me listen. It makes me feel even more strongly when I have a crush, when I’m in love, and when I’m falling out of it. My anxious thoughts make me suffer, but it makes me a better person. Why? It makes me aware that I am human. It makes me aware that everyone is flawed and everyone has parts of themselves that they hate, but they still deserve to find their soulmate.
You question your love for them. Even though deep down you know you love them, sometimes you question your own heart. Your anxiety sometimes can make you second guess yourself and downplay your gut instincts. Sometimes, you really do think to yourself, do I truly love this person? Is this person really a good fit for me?
You are not what your anxiety tells you that you are.
I am strong. But my anxiety makes me feel weak. My heart is happy. But my anxiety tells me it’s not. My lungs are powerful. But my anxiety makes it hard to breathe. I am a strong woman. But my anxiety makes me forget that.
Anxiety makes you overthink every detail. It makes you freak out over every minuscule thing. It makes you fret about the smallest of arguments or conflicts. It makes you feel like you aren’t good enough. It makes you feel like love isn’t even worth it, because it’s just too damn hard for someone like you.
We are the generation of mental illness. Of anxiety. Of depression. Of stress that turns to ulcers. We are the generation defined by the sickness in our minds. Of not knowing how to fail. We are the generation that tears ourselves apart because we can’t achieve perfection. We are the generation full of panic. Of Xanax and Zoloft and Valium.
Their anxiety makes them want to run as far as they can. Their anxiety makes them want to cancel. Their anxiety makes them want to disappear. Because in their minds, that’s better than being hurt. That’s better than getting disappointed. That’s better than rejection.
I have to learn to forgive myself for all of my bad days. For the days where I don’t want to do anything but lie in bed and stare at the walls. For the days where I don’t do anything but press my body further towards my mattress, wanting everything to go away. I’m slowly learning to forgive myself for when I can’t see the light. For when all I see is darkness.
No matter what, do not ever blame them. Don’t tell them that they are weak. Don’t tell them to try harder. Don’t tell them that they aren’t working fast enough. Don’t ever blame them for how their brain works. That’s only going to add fuel to the fire.
‘Anxiety is wanting to fix something that isn’t even a problem.’