Tuesday, January 24, 2017

If You Could Spend A Day Inside My Head

If you could spend a day inside my head, you would understand that my anxiety isn't a choice. You would feel constant assault of worry that feels like it's about to eat me alive.

If you could spend a day inside my head, you'd know how isolating that worry feels, when it seems like you're the only one who can't think the way that others are. When everyone else is promising it will be OK, but until you actually see that, unless they can actually make it so, you can't believe them. Your brain will not allow it.

If you could spend a day inside my head, you'd understand that it feels like you have raw nerves on the outside of your body. Nerves that with the slightest breeze or brush could become excruciatingly painful physically, mentally emotionally.

If you could spend a day inside my head, you'd understand that even if something seems trivial to you, it might seem vital to me, and that nothing I can do will change that. You'd understand that trying to change it only makes me feel worse, only isolates me more for feeling so misunderstood.

If you could spend a day inside my head, you'd understand how terrifying grey areas are. How knowing the worst is better than not knowing, even with the possibility of the best still out there.

If you could spend a day inside my head, you'd know that it's not an attitude. That I cannot just think more positively or be more grateful. You'd realize how painful it is to feel this way, how badly I wish I did not.

If you could spend a day inside my head, you'd understand that I can't stop it from spinning. That there are times when 1,000 stimuli are firing at me at once, even everything around me looks peacful. You'd understand that it feels like you're under attack from your surroundings.

If you could spend a day inside my head, you'd understand that I can't wait to have that conversation or do that task or know that answer. That it's slowly tearing me apart from the inside out. That either I break out of it, or I break down, and I cannot break out of it without taking this action.

If you could spend a day inside my head, you'd know that none of this is a choice. That I never asked for this and I'd give anything not to put myself through this. Not to put you through this as a result.

But you cannot spend a day inside my head. So I ask you to believe me when I tell you how I feel, and to acknowledge that because you cannot understand, cannot experience it, doesn't mean it isn't real.  

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