I have been trying not to talk about depression too much. One, it’s depressing and two, I don’t know if you want to hear about what I am going through.
I do, however, write about it for two reasons; one, I found that I like to write and it helps explain my current thoughts and two, if I help one person, it’s worth it.
Today’s topic is anxiety. Anxiety isn’t just stress for me; it is something darker and deeper than that.
We all have stress; will I meet this deadline? How am I going to do this project? Will my smelly kids get a bath this week? But for me, stress is worse.
It starts out as a thought just like you. The only way I can explain my anxiety is it starts like a drip in your leaky faucet- drip… drip… drip. Then that drip becomes a leak and that leak floods your bathroom, which floods your house, which floods the neighborhood, which floods all of North America, which floods the world and then we are all dead. That is my stress pattern. That is a representation of my running thoughts.
Having Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), is hard because life and anxiety is intensified. I take one instant in my day and I obsess about it- did I do that right? Should I have done this differently? Why did I say this? Dos and don’ts; shoulds and shouldn’ts. Just on repeat… over and over.
Right now my thoughts are the noose around my neck; every moment it becomes tighter. Every thought chafes my neck a little more making it bleed. My windpipe is being crushed, the air escapes my lungs for the last time.
I struggle to find a way out- therapy is my knife cutting the noose. Little by little, I chip away at the rope; little by little I can feel the fresh air try to reach my lungs. Little by little, I will perhaps, live again.
Until next time,
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