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eaten alive

So I stay up and I stare at the ceiling And ask myself if I should even share these feelings Then I hear a voice in the distance from a ghost-like image Saying my pain could be somebody's healing

So I close my eyes and drift to the place that inspires these lyrics And as I see flames and I scream I pray it's a place you'll never have to visit

~ Dax: Suffocating

My anxiety is eating me alive.

It is the Vecna of my soul.

It is my insidious brain worm.

It is crushing my spirit.

It is overwhelming my dreams.

It is defeating me.

I curl into a ball begging someone to release the pounding pain that has become the cavern of my heart.

My vital organ feels like iron walls are enclosing upon the last ember of hope that we had.

And then my mind realizes it has a foothold, and it consumes me.

“What if this doesn’t work out? What if in the end you’ll fail?

“Why do you think you are owed this life?”

“Maybe you’re just lost and making decisions out of fear?”

“Everyone hates you.”

“You are worthless.”

I forgot how painful my mind could be. I’ve spent months in green hills of my soul’s home. Within that peace and love that resides there, my mind lost its foothold.

My soul was at peace.

My heart was content.

My mind and I were even becoming friends.

But this past week, a war has begun being waged.

My mind is a battlefield.

My spirit has tried to hold to the glowing ember that is my hope; but anxiety is a monster that always craves more.

I’ve been trying to use my mental health toolbox to work with this new onslaught of fear.

I’ve gone on runs (this helps the body break itself from flight/fight/or freeze).

I’ve taken cold showers (breathing through the cold helps you regulate your nervous system).

I’ve done art therapy, (make a list of everything you must do and then create something beautiful out of it).

I’ve done all this,

and I am still so tired of being coiled into a ball of fear.

Anxiety is a natural human emotion. It is the emotion that has protected our ancestors from the hunters of the world.

Anxiety kept you from going into the lion’s den.

But what happens when that anxiety becomes the lion’s den?


This week, I started the visa application process.

I’ve reached a point that is waiting for forms and praying that the documents I can gather are enough.


I love control.

I have a painful NEED for control. It’s been an excruciating companion on this lifetime of realizing time and time again that WE HAVE NO CONTROL.

This week, when I felt like I lost control of the situation, my anxiety took root within me, and slowly began to crumble me from the inside out.

My mind spun over and under the logistics of my situation, begging to just know it would all be okay.

I try to remind myself that the anxiety is here for a reason. I am doing big and scary things.

But this version of anxiety is all-encompassing.

It makes breathing difficult.

It makes you forget that food and water are something that give you life.

It drags you down into a dark, black hole where you’re not sure where to find the light.


Why do I write about this?

Why do I bear my heart with its blotted stains of fear onto a page for others to read?

Because I know I am not alone.

I am not the only one whose anxiety has reduced them to a curled ball of fear.

I am not the only one who begs for control in a life where there is none.

I am not the only one who fears the future.

I am not the only one.

You are not alone. I am not alone. We are not alone in this battle.

When the darkness became insufferable, I came to these keys.

I prayed they would take the pain away.

But I also prayed that like Dax said, “this pain could be somebody’s healing”.

I may end up curling in a ball after I write this.

Or maybe I will hug my cat.

Or look at a flower.

Or remember that this moment that feels like it is destroying me, is not the end.

I have no answers friends.

I simply hope you know you are not alone when the darkness falls.

This week has been heavy.

But the night is darkest right before the dawn.

I wake up every day and look at that picture of my younger self.

I remember that I am building this life for her.

And I rise to meet the challenges of the day.

I believe it will work out for good.

I believe I am held even in the darkness.

I believe the sun is rising.

You are not alone in your pain dear friend.

Until next time,


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