It sits right in the middle of my chest. Slowly crawling it’s way up to my throat, making me suffocate. It’s hard to breathe but i do it anyway. I inhale sharply to the rhythm of air and try to exhale slowly. Oh how i wish that to work! I feel all the more nauseous. But that’s the thing about it, you cannot puke it out and neither can you swallow. It settles like a lump down your throat. If you can relate, you obviously know what i am talking about.
I don’t know what makes anxiety worse, is it the feeling itself or is it about acknowledging the feeling as one. Because once you realise you have it, you percieve it as a problem which cannot be solved. For a moment you are just fine and next you are sweating and feeling extremely vulnerable out of nowhere. They say it’s hard to describe what you feel but it’s not that way. You can describe what you feel but when you are in that moment, you are feeling so many emotions all at once that you fall short of time (not words). You can describe it best when you are actually feeling it because when it’s gone, it’s gone for good and you don’t want to bring it back by writing about it.
It’s like a trauma that hits you in waves. Sometimes they are so strong that they take you with it and you are not present in the moment anymore. You are struggling to breathe and come back to reality but you fail. Sometimes they are weak and pass easily and you are back to being ‘you’, feeling a lot better. It’s exhausting and sometimes even sleeping doesn’t help.
Sometimes you feel to be around people to feel less lonely and sometimes your solitude does the healing and the last thing you want to do is breathe the same air as someone else. Anxiety is high maintenance i tell you! But it does teaches you patience. Feeling lifeless teaches you a lot of patience.
It’s never enough to talk about anxiety. It’s all the same and yet so different every time you experience it.