Anxiety is the harsh, twisted wife of depression; an affair of the emotions. Its placement within an individuals conscious mind is a form of imprisonment, incarcerated within the environmental, extraneous effects of the world. How can anyone realistically function in this time-scape when they are afraid of their own shadow? Realistically, there is no true “fix” to this relentless, unforgiving disorder. In a bundle of nerves, a waterfall of worries, and pestering realizations, entrapment is an inevitability.
Over the course of the last three years, this plague grew in severity, cascading into a full-fledged assault on the mind. This “war within” grew to such an extent that it could engulf the entire body, leaving a susceptibility to the trickery and detrimental effects of the devious, unrelenting demon more formally known as depression. How is it that something of such mediocrity, which is often overlooked, could have such a profound effect on an individual? These questions have been in the forefront of my mind since realizing that I, myself, have an anxiety disorder which was brought to light during the stressful, overexertion during training in the National Guard. Therapy, consultation - these were only a few of the “band-aids” haphazardly and sloppily administered to my disorder. Medication was the subtle knife which would silently end my troubles, however I never utilized that method of compensation. I felt, like many traditionally raised conservatives before me, that I must “push through” or “man up” to the undying torment and pain, falsely believing that I would be a “stronger person” and “better off in the long run”. Accepting help was not an option. In many ways, I have “pushed through” this disorder and learned to accept its effects on my mind. As I’ve noted, there is no simple solution, quick fix, or magic pill which resolves this undying disorder. The only solution has, and will continue to be, acceptance. Learning to coexist and live life parallel to the demands and persistent nagging of a troubled mind is the only means to functionality. This confession is one method for me to, personally, open my bottle of unkept secrets in an attempt to appease my troubled, “spot filled” mind.
This anxiety is killing me.