The depression was becoming manageable. I had heard from others that overcoming depression was like becoming a new person; being reborn again. To me, though, it was more like I went back to my old self. I had complained in the past that it felt like my crushing sadness was swallowing me up, surfacing at times and using my face and body to make me miserable; but now I felt in control. It felt good, to suddenly recognize that I wasn’t The Worst Person Ever™, but was just… a person who struggled. Like anyone else. With counseling, some medication, and a lot of hard work: I was pulling out of the sticky mud of my depression. It clung to me like cobwebs, and released me slowly. On difficult days, when I was sad and lonely, I’d get pulled back in the mud with a slurping sound and the feeling that I deserved to be unhappy.
When the depression became manageable, my anxiety became more pronounced. I wonder if perhaps the anxiety was always there, under the surface– lying in wait for the depression to go away, so it could have it’s turn.
Ha ha ha, I imagine is snickering: What if every problem there ever was is your problem? And get this– what if it’s all your fault?
Most of the time my anxiety is not quite like that. It’s more like a colony of bees built a hive inside my mind. Loud buzzing and horrid fluttering of crunchy wings pervade my every thought; it gets so loud in my head with little worries that I can’t hear myself think. Every little bee is a different thought. Each one feels it is so important that it shouts to be heard– and I can’t focus. It makes me feel crazy, irrational, and high strung. It’s so normal for me that I won’t notice how worried I am: my teeth will begin to ache before I realize I’m clenching my jaw, my toes will uncurl and I won’t have noticed I hid them under my feet.
I feel like a pot boiling on the stove: roiling with angry bubbles that balloon upwards and explode. Never simmering, never stopping– boiling until everything has evaporated and left nothing but an ugly calcite stain.
Breathing helps. It is odd how focusing on something so natural (easy as breathing) can be so calming.
Eight counts in, hold four counts, eight counts out. Filling my brain with manually completing a normally automated task helps me focus.
My struggle for a healthy mind atmosphere continues. I still have work to do.