I've been struggling a lot lately with anxiety, and it sucks. There's very little positive to be found in crying uncontrollably for an hour and not being able to explain it to your boyfriend, or in being so petrified in class that you can't even follow the lecture.
The one positive thing that came out of it: I finally "finished" a creative non-fiction piece I've been working on for a while. (I put "finished" in quotes because, as writers out there know, a piece is never completely finished.) The piece deals with issues regarding sex, abuse, relationships (familial and romantic), and rape. Writing it gave me the really awesome chance to consider the roots of my anxiety -- the relationships between my current-day experiences and the things in my past, why certain things are triggers, etc.
But the most vast realization I had? I am happier now than I have ever been before, and I am happy for all the right reasons. I am in an amazing graduate program, studying issues about which I am truly passionate. I have a few amazing forever-friends, as well as a few really great new friends. I have a supportive mother and sister, and things with my dad have improved. I also have the greatest, most supportive boyfriend who moved across the country to live with me, and who daily reminds me that he loves me -- both through his words and through his actions.
So why do I still feel anxious? Why is it that some days, I can't even hold the tears back? Why do I wake up from nightmares at 2 a.m. and need to write a letter I'll never send.
I don't have good answers. I mean, I have diagnosed OCD and general anxiety, so that gives a medical explanation, I suppose. But I can't logically explain it. Some days, I just feel like as amazing as everything is, there is no way it can go anywhere but down. Some days, I just feel like I'm not worth it.
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