I’m tired. And my mom asks why I’m always tired. You just woke up. You just took a nap. You went to bed early. Take vitamins she suggests.
I closed my door early. I laid there staring at the ceiling. I replayed every mistake I made that day.
Some call me overachieving. But all I see is someone who only matters because of my success and without it I’d be nothing. When the thought of being number two makes me cringe to a point I work myself to a point of exhaustion.
Yes, I’m tired but I don’t know how to stop.
When the thought of failing anything leads to over-preparing so I don’t. When I associate happiness with success and achieving things, I’m never living in the moment. I just think about the next big thing. Then I lay awake at night wondering why all of these things aren’t filling this void I don’t know how to.
But regardless of all the things I may accomplish, I still feel like I’m falling short of these expectations that I put on myself.
When someone says proud, I wish I could feel what they feel. When someone compliments me then gives me constructive criticism, I only hear the negative. When the word “perfect” leads me to tears because I feel so far from it.
And I look at others wishing for what they have when they might be doing the same.
On the outside, I am calm and quiet. Everyone looks at me like I have it all together.
But on the inside is constant chaos within me. Like some storm and every wave that hits is destroying me, myelf only I’m causing it.
Relax. Breathe. Stop thinking. But I can’t. So I stay quiet and pretend.
Because anxiety is about the art of deception. It’s about how well I can play this role until it’s too much to handle and I have an anxiety attack I didn’t see coming over something so small.
Because I don’t lose my shit over the big things I probably should. But I’m in tears screaming when my parents tell me they threw away something of mine.
I am my own worst critic and worst enemy.
It’s the thoughts that never end. My mind is in a million places at once and I try to live in the moment. I get mad at myself when I don’t. But it’s not easy for me to just be present.
I jump at any movement of my phone. I broadcast this life that others aspire to have, I obsess over likes and strangers approval because I haven’t found that within myself yet.
I constantly compare myself to others thinking I fall short, thinking I’m in some competition.
It’s every worst scenario coming to life. I play it out in my head just so I know to respond to it.
It’s the relationship that ends before it even begins. It’s a first date where I am so nervous about saying the wrong thing or saying too much. It’s anticipating it not working out when they might very well like me, but I’m looking for every reason and every sign that they might not.
It’s the text message that doesn’t get answered. And instead of pointing at them and saying it’s a flaw on their part for not seeing my worth and wanting to give me the time of day, the first thought is, what did I do wrong? How can I make this right? Should I apologize?
It’s a fight that puts me emotionally over the edge and next thing I know I’m in a ball hysterically crying alone, but I would never let someone see me in this state. It would ruin my reputation and how I want people to perceive me.
It’s the words “I’m sorry,” and friends don’t even know why I’m saying it. And if I told them I came up with 10 scenarios as to why this friendship ended in my head, all of it came down to was something that happened years ago and they forgave me. But I haven’t forgiven myself.
Anxiety is clinging to every mistake I made or haven’t made yet.
It’s the carefully executed text where I think about what I am going to say only to edit it a million times so it’s right. Rereading it in my head and my heart racing when I push send.
It’s watching closely to every detail and every person’s body language, tone, response, and I think they don’t like me. But in reality, it’s just you being paranoid.
I come off as unapproachable at work or school. But I’m just nervous.
Anxiety isn’t just worrying. It’s this lifestyle no one would choose.
Yeah, I’m tired. But there isn’t enough sleep to change the person I am. There isn’t enough sleep to change the chemistry in my brain. There isn’t enough sleep that can change waking up and suddenly not being this person anymore.
I’m always going to care too much. Think too much. And I wish it could stop. But it doesn’t. I just learn to try to live with it the best I can.