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A warning, right up front. This one's going to hurt. [TW: anxiety, fear, mentions of suicide]
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I had lunch with a friend of mine earlier today, and in so doing, finally figured out how to describe what being afraid is like. Fear is a constant. It doesn't end, doesn't take days off, and rips apart everything it touches. It forces your heart to pound, even when it shouldn't, and spikes your adrenaline over and over until all you can do is collapse.
To be afraid all the time is to lose track of time and space. It's to lose track of emotion, of safety, of everything that isn't within the whirling storm. It's to lose the branch you're holding on to, over and over again. It's to be swept away, screaming, powerless to stop your flight.
Hiding from it, pushing it away... doesn't really fix it. It makes you think you have, but it lies. It'll lie right up until you kill yourself, not even sure why you're holding the blade, and it won't care a lick.
To be afraid all the time is to face that, daily... the voice that cries inside. The one that shakes until she can't, wishing for the end. Sometimes that's all I can do... shake until I sleep, exhaustion taking me into sweat-drenched nightmares, wishing I could weep.
My therapist called me brave last week, brave for fighting this. I told her that I have no choice. I just wish I could sleep. >.<
--------------------
I had lunch with a friend of mine earlier today, and in so doing, finally figured out how to describe what being afraid is like. Fear is a constant. It doesn't end, doesn't take days off, and rips apart everything it touches. It forces your heart to pound, even when it shouldn't, and spikes your adrenaline over and over until all you can do is collapse.
To be afraid all the time is to lose track of time and space. It's to lose track of emotion, of safety, of everything that isn't within the whirling storm. It's to lose the branch you're holding on to, over and over again. It's to be swept away, screaming, powerless to stop your flight.
Hiding from it, pushing it away... doesn't really fix it. It makes you think you have, but it lies. It'll lie right up until you kill yourself, not even sure why you're holding the blade, and it won't care a lick.
To be afraid all the time is to face that, daily... the voice that cries inside. The one that shakes until she can't, wishing for the end. Sometimes that's all I can do... shake until I sleep, exhaustion taking me into sweat-drenched nightmares, wishing I could weep.
My therapist called me brave last week, brave for fighting this. I told her that I have no choice. I just wish I could sleep. >.<
