I have been pretty transparent about my struggle with anxiety/depression and also my mother’s ongoing battle with the same. Only exception is that I am obviously not menopausing. I don’t think I need to go into the whole explaining what that is and the hormonal/body changes women experience during that time. Many of you know the emotional, mental and physical toll it has taken on my family and myself. My main fear is me falling into my own anxiety pit again. I have been trying to do everything I can to prevent that. I refuse to let that all familiar consuming darkness to make it’s way back into my life again. The only thing is, it is happening. I am aware. I am scared but I am also fighting like hell to not fold.
The love I have for myself as a whole has increased immensely within the past year. It has came with a hefty price tag of losing so called friends, having a relationship I thought was going to last forever end in the most stupidest of ways, and being jobless for a few months thus making me stay home & have more time to think. All of those days of hearing my thoughts bounce off the walls led me to higher heights, being grateful for my small circle of friends, a job I love and also finally being with the woman I was meant to be with all this time. I have every single reason in the universe to be happy despite the bullshit I have to go through at home because of my mother. However, anxiety looms on my shoulder and I have not been battling it in the best of ways. Yes, my drinking has increased considerably. Not to the level that I can’t function without it but I go to that first almost always when I’m extremely stressed. My girlfriend has checked me on it and I have taken measures to find other ways to combat stress. It is not easy battling this depression that threatens to cloak me. I do not want to end up like my mother. I refuse to let myself get bad again or to lose again to anxiety/depression. I literally cannot afford it.
Reminding myself that I am not the same person I was back when the anxiety/depression was bad. I have progressed on levels I did not even think were possible. To a point that I have also helped others with their similar battles, getting through breakups and shedding truth bombs left and right when the inspiration hits. I have found myself speaking words that were uttered to me when I was navigating the sea of never ending pain I threw myself into. Yet, I live with this fear of getting bad again when I know I’m strong enough to go to war if I need to.
Not only am I not the same person I was during my previous bad period, I have so much more to lose now. Because of that darkness that once covered every inch of my life, I was able to bury the carcass of a scared, heartbroken girl and embrace the lovely skin of a woman who is loved, fierce and above all else, strong.
Even while typing this post out, I have realized how I have been speaking death into my own existence. Holding my own funeral when I’m alive and well. While parts of me have been uprooted from the ground, I refuse to stop growing, thriving and letting the sun shine providing me with life needed to flourish. I needed to write this. It was indeed long overdue and a refreshing burst of motivation. Reminding myself of who I am.
– Writer From Jersey