Inside The Home Of Anxiety & Depression


“At heart, I have always been a coper, I’ve mostly been able to walk around with my wounds safely hidden, and I’ve always stored up my deep depressive episodes for the weeks off when there was time to have an abbreviated version of a complete breakdown. But in the end, I’d be able to get up and on with it, could always do what little must be done to scratch by.” ― Elizabeth WurtzelProzac Nation

If there isn’t a continuous sequence, I feel detached from my environment. I can sit on my bed all day while doing nothing because I can’t decide what to do. My mind races directionless as it tries to find a resting place. Following close by are ambiguous thoughts that I don’t even understand. I think there is a reason for everything, or at least my mind does. You can find me debating with my inner conscience on what to think. For example, thinking about people wanting to leave my life brings me anxiety. You’re probably asking “why would they want to leave your life?” Well, how should I know? When everything is externally calm it’s as though my mind swallows all the chaos.

I will be content until a string of ideas starts forming in my mind about events or conversations that have previously happened. The concern grows stronger that my mind won’t stop racing with negative assumptions: Did I do something wrong? Did that opportunity lead me there or was it that one? Did he not say he loved me over the phone last night because he’s preoccupied with another woman? While we were together did he cheat on me that day that week that we didn’t talk? Am I a good enough writer? How will I ever get a summer internship anywhere? Who will want to hire me? How did she get that job? Shit, my tea isn’t hot anymore.

We are flawed if we think we know ourselves one hundred percent. We should always be progressing, while moving forwards and never backwards. Often times we don’t notice that time has changed us. Hypothetically, there is a clock ticking behind us; it’s behind us so we don’t see it. Unless we’re searching for time, it’s nowhere to be found. This concept of time —- to have to be something and to live up to any ideal is bizarre. It’s undeniably one of man’s most tragic thought.

The difficulty with such an illness is not knowing what to think, how to interpret situations, and what people’s intentions are. What do I do with this disorder? I’ve coped with drugs, marijuana, sex, revenge, food, sleep, exercise, lists, school work, family, and friends. Most things you can think of I have tried in an attempt to erase life’s possible ambiguity. I want to be a better person but my conscience tells me that even if I try, I will not be good enough. For the past two months I’ve been coping, not healing, with marijuana. I know it has worked for friends and others in the past, but not for me. Symptoms include: body aches and pains; no daily purpose; loving anyone that shows interest; avoiding any social situation; spending copious dollars; forgetting about obligations; losing compassion; losing sympathy; and short term memory failure. I don’t know what to decipher as a disorder, or a normal personality trait anymore. What I do know is that when I have an anxiety episode I know I’m not in control of my thoughts, my mental illness is.