I don’t want to wake up in a state of terror every morning as my mind returns to consciousness and automatically begins to refill itself with worst-case-scenarios for every possible problem I might be faced with that day.
I don’t want to constantly listen intently for sounds indicating something is wrong, my heart pounding in my chest.
I don’t want to be unable to sit down for the duration of an entire television show without pausing it to get up and check something at the behest of my ocd-addled brain.
I don’t want to lie awake in bed, eyes wide open, staring into the darkness, collaborating with my mind to destroy any semblance of rest my body sorely needs.
I want to feel calm. I want to go to sleep and wake up without anxiety. I want to take a leisurely drive. I want to enjoy something without wondering what might be wrong with it.
I want to not have chronic discomfort from the stomach conditions my lifelong anxiety has left me with. I want to take feeling normal for granted again.
Those who are casually acquainted with me would likely be surprised by this post, as I don’t wear my emotions on my sleeve, preferring to mask them with a guardedly hardened, rugged facade, revealing my true nature only to those I feel might empathize or at least understand.
I’m not seeking sympathy; not a fan of it. Nor am I soliciting advice. I’m simply airing my thoughts. To anyone reading this who feels the same or similarly, know that someone understands. You’re not alone.
Patrick Walts 