Tag Archives: anxiety

When anxiety changes into depression

Anxiety is that odd feeling that grabs you by the throat and suffocates you to the point where you wheeze for air. No matter how hard you inhale you can’t seem to get anything inside of your lungs. It’s a feeling that constantly makes you worry. It nibbles on your insecurities and makes you lose your mind. You become tired and restless and your heart starts thrashing in your ribcage and you start sweating like crazy. All the energy you had in your body leaves you, making you feel so tired that you can’t even move. A deep slicing headache takes a hold of you. The pain is so bad that you’re willing to swallow as many pills as you can to make it go away.

The anxiety slowly leaves, and depression fills the void. Everything that once held meaning loses its purpose. Faith that once kept you in one peace starts to suffocate you, making you run around, gasping for air. You sit in one place like a statue staring into space because the wars in your mind are damaging you. You can’t fight the world because you’re losing a war with yourself. You lose faith and then slowly you lose every part of you that makes you human. All you want to do is lie down, curl into a ball, cover yourself and sleep. But even sleep gives up on you and you lay awake, trying to hold onto whatever excuse you can find to keep going.

Things that once made you happy, don’t bring a smile to your face anymore. Even the simplest tasks, like making breakfast seem like a burden. Getting out of bed seems useless.

Thoughts roam around in your mind, making you question the validity of your existence. You lose hope and at that moment everything just seems useless. That soft voice telling you to end it all takes over and you find yourself smiling to that thought. It brings an odd comfort.

Depression or anxiety is not easy to deal with. It’s like you’re drowning in an ocean and everyone else is drowning with you, but they can breathe, and you can’t. It’s like everything is on fire and no one seems hurt but you. It’s like everyone else is living in a parallel universe and no matter what you do, you can’t seem to escape.

Everyone has their way of dealing with anxiety. I write. I wrote a freaking poetry book to deal with my mental health. Curing my Venom. It’s based on the five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. But no matter what stage I’m on, I can’t seem to move on to acceptance. I always get dragged back. I don’t know what’s holding me, but I do know I have chains as thick as iron grasping my arms. And I’m suffocating.

Be gentle with people who have anxiety and depression or any other mental illness. They’re too busy fighting the demons in their minds that they can’t seem to fight you. Give them assurance. Constant assurance that things will be okay because sometimes the demons in their mind are so loud that they can’t hear you over the ruckus in their brain.

Why you held on for so long…

I’m doubting myself again
and I don’t know what to do
do I give up or do I pull myself through?

But the days are getting darker
and I don’t see the light
what’s the point of this crusade
when I can’t even fight?

The journey seems too long
and the mountains are too high
I’m sinking to the ground
yet I’m aiming for the sky.

I have wounds as thick as oceans
and bruises as dark as coal
how do I move ahead
when I don’t know where to go.

I don’t have a shield
or a cover above my head
I’m breathing and wheezing
but something in me is dead.

Don’t give up. Not now not ever.
remember why you held on for so long
doubt will only break you
but my love, I know you’re very strong.

Your wounds may be many
and you may be feeling down
but why are you afraid of falling
when you’ve risen from the ground.

Take a break
inhale. Victory is yours to kiss
I believe in you
I know you can do this.

Poetry book: Curing My Venom

Will it actually be okay?

“It’s okay.”
“It’ll be alright.”

Your lips are moving but your words aren’t reaching me. I’m trying so hard to grasp onto the letters spewing out of your mouth, but they slip from between my ears like sand does in a closed palm. I can’t comprehend what you’re saying. Don’t raise your voice, it’ll only make me deaf.

The words your chanting have stopped making sense to me and the demons rioting in my mind are taking control. They’re harsh words make more sense, then your sugar-coated lies. Those demons are so loud that I can hear them scream like they’re standing next to me.

“Nothing will ever be okay”
“Look at yourself. You’re all sorts of fucked-up…”

Yes!
I find myself agreeing and repeating those same words to myself, saying them over and over again in my mind. The vapor of hope, I was holding close to my chest, vanishes and I find myself being molested by despair. I cry and scream but no one seems to hear. And it feels as if everything coming out of my mouth is a sin. Maybe I deserve all this. Maybe I should be punished. I’m already ruined, I’ll ruin everyone else around me too. I feel like a weed growing among roses, which needs to be pulled out or it’ll ruin the beauty of everything else.

I’ve come to the point where I’ve stopped yelling at those voices in my head. I’ve stopped fighting them because, in the end, I’m the one who gets stabbed. I curl into a ball and pull the covers over myself in an attempt to hide, but I can’t seem to do that. The more I try to conceal myself the more visible I become.

No matter where I go, I can’t hide myself from me. I can’t run away from what I am. From what I don’t want to be. This self-inflicted war makes my chest tight and it aches so bad that even inhaling hurts. How can I fight the world, when the war I’m fighting is taking place in my head? How can I win, when the person I’m fighting is me?

It’s hard to see the good in things when you’re blinded by grief. It’s hard to be positive when you’ve grown up in negativity. But I guess that’s what life is. It’s a war and you’re a soldier. It’s a dictator and you’re a rebel and rebels don’t give up. Rebels never give up. You’re brave, not because you’ve always won but because you’ve chosen to rise after every fall. Warriors don’t give up. No matter how brutal the voices become, no matter how bloody the battlefield gets. You’re strong because you’re here, torn, messed up, broken. But you’re here and that’s all that matters.

A farewell from life…

It’s been a long road
I know I haven’t done you any good
but – our ways are parting now
forgive me if you could.

I know I’ve let you down
because now I’m sinking deep
watching you fade away
into a dreamless sleep.

There’s so much I could have done
to ease this walk of yours
but I stood in front of you
blocking all your doors.

I haven’t been the kindest
I wish you didn’t see
the flames that burned you down
were ignited by me.

It’s all my fault
I drowned all your dreams
I wanted to see you suffer
when you were begging on your knees.

I have no more words
but there’s so much I need to say
I wish I could have said it all
before the arrival of this day.

Now you must close your eyes
there awaits you another friend
from here you’ll have to move on
our journey has come to an end.

Embrace this new transition
there awaits you another road
you need to be brave now
because you are worth so much more.

I’m sorry
I wish I could repent
I’d give you all I have
if time was mine to control
I would have become your path.

A farewell from life

Poetry book: Curing My Venom
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Period cramps…

Period…

Being a girl is hard.
Having to bleed once a month is even harder.

The cramps that come and tie knots in your stomach make you feel like you have daggers piercing through your skin. It’s like getting shot. The pain is so bad that you feel like your abdomen is about to rupture and you’ll die if the pain does not stop. And it doesn’t. It gets worse.

Along with the cramps you get that nerve wrenching headache that pounds and makes you think you have a crushed skull. It’s like someone has taken an expandable elastic and has tied it around your head- stopping all the blood from flowing through your brain.

The loss of appetite and the gaining of appetite the very next moment makes your insides churn. Am I eating because I’m hungry or am I eating because I’m in pain? Either way, it’s terrifying. The bloated stomach. The leg pain. The back pain. The chest pain. Pain, in general, is magnified a hundred percent. That tiny paper cut I got last year is throbbing and I’m sitting here crying because it hurt really bad twelve months ago.

The mood swings. Wanting to die at one moment and then feeling like Adele the very next. Feeling sad over a text message and then laughing about it the next hour, and then crying over it again the next day.

The worst part of all this is having to be picky about what you wear. I can’t wear that… it’s too light…What if an accident happens and I look like I just ran away from a murder scene. Imagine having to explain that to someone. Honestly, I’d rather confess to the murder.

Sweats and an oversized hoodie seem safe. They’re always safe for every occasion. Don’t feel like changing. BAM throw on a hoodie. On your period, strap on a hoodie.

The thought process behind it takes so much energy that you lose brain cells while losing blood cells. Literally. And I don’t have many of either.

Maybe I’m exaggerating. Maybe I can’t compare period cramps to being shot because I’ve never been shot. Maybe I’m annoyed by the fact that I can’t explain to people (ahem men) how bad it can get sometimes. Imagine sitting in physics class, minding your own business, taking down notes on quantum mechanics when a throbbing headache rips through followed by a wave of cramps. Forget about Quantum mechanics, in that state you forget how to add.

Now the pulverizing thoughts that swirl through your mind. Do I have a pad/tampon? What if I don’t? Maybe I’m hallucinating. Where am I gonna get a pad from?

And no, I don’t become a savage beast like the wolves do in fantasy movies when the full moon rises. I become worse. Stay fifteen feet away from me before I chew off your head and eat it raw. I’m joking. Yes, I get irritated and annoyed, but after a few hours, I return to my natural form. (Now my natural form is a mess and that’s a different story).

But having cramps is not fun. If your mom or sister or wife or friend is having cramps. Leave her alone… trust me you’ll be doing her a favor. Or you can be nice and get them hot chocolate or coffee (or maybe a ticket to the Maldives) and just ask, ‘if there is anything you can do to make things better.’ Trust me words have more power in them than actions do.