What do you feel?

I wanted to write something from my perspective as someone with severe Anxiety and Depression. I think too often people who don't have it don't quite understand what it's like.

What do you feel when you’re anxious? Is it the pounding of your heart? Is the beat pressing against your skin, pushing to get out? Do your eyes dart between people, desperately looking for a sign; will they hurt you? Will they help you? What do you see when you look at people; the random strangers who mill about the streets not paying attention. Do you see scorn? Indifference?

I see all of that. I get that feeling in my stomach; like you’ve had too much to eat or was on too many spinney rides at the fair. But how would you know if you’re not like me? How would you know that when you get that feeling, you have no clue what it means? I never know. Did I eat too much? Are my instincts telling me something is wrong? Is there something wrong or is it all in my head? Normal is subjective. Your normal is a fantasy for my frantic brain, just barely trying to hold on to a shred of sanity. Peace is a double-edged sword between silence and worry. Silence means there is nothing wrong, but silence is also when my brain has unfettered access to worry. Scenarios out of my control pound my skull. Does he still like her? What if my tire explodes next time I drive? Are we running out of money? (of course, we are). When will I die? When will this all go away?

 

Depression is not any better. When my brain is not attacking me with what if’s it is too exhausted to do anything else. My depression isn’t a dark shine in my eyes, it isn’t something that can be cured. It’s the moments where my entire body is consumed by fatigue. All I want to do is sleep, maybe eat, but sleep some more. It’s the emptiness that fills the void after my consciousness snaps. The moments when I am through crying and questioning why I’m here. The dull ache, non-responsiveness. The times I stare out at nothing at all.

 

But how do I explain this to you? You who believes that everything is okay. That all we need to do is believe, have faith, work harder. I can scream all I want, but who will listen? The therapist who sends the automatic message: I am concerned that you are heavily at risk of suicide or self-harm. Below is the number for the national suicide hotline. I care about your mental health ? Who would believe me? That every bite I take feels like I’m bringing myself closer to throwing up. That when my brain is so tired or so frantic I have no time to pick up my room. The conversations they have with me. “What’s wrong with you”. Everything. “Nothing”. “Why aren't you eating?” because eating makes me sick, I can barely breathe. “I’m just not hungry.” 

Who will listen?