I didn’t really sleep last night.
Okay let’s be real, I did not sleep at all last night.
I am having some personal difficulties that are anxiety-related but involve another person in my life, and are complex enough that I cannot handle them on my own any longer.
I am doing an assignment, super last-minute.
I have two tests tomorrow.
And yet, as if by magic I have SUDDEN CLARITY. I don’t even know how to describe this wonderful thing, except to say that you non-anxious pals feel it every beautiful morning when you look up at the sky – I had almost forgotten what it was like to trust my own instincts, to think without invasive worries, to BE!
I spent all night sending messages, one more convoluted than the next to this important person in my life, for whom I tend to sugar coat everything hoping to God they won’t taste the poison I buried inside myself, the poison seeping out every day. I didn’t last night. I cried until my eyes were swollen and I said the good and the bad as though their inbox was a confessional where I, the sinner could repent, could gain my absolution, my relief.
I am not religious, but I know I am a sinner. What I mean to say is – I have a moral code, and I break it, and I get up and try again. For months on end I’ve woken up feeling stale and sad, with a knot in my throat but I never stopped wearing my heart on my sleeve, never stopped squinting to see that beautiful horizon. I woke up in pain every day and I made lists of tasks – brush teeth, sweep floor, buy milk, check email. Each simple task causing me pain but I did each one – and then I went to sleep in a pained haze, and then I got up and tried again.
I am proud of myself. Anxiety, you strange, strange beast. My kryptonite, my Everest. I may spend my whole life wrestling you, but I’ll do it if only I am given the occasional day like today, when I see the blue horizon, and my potential, and I can love this flawed world with my flawed, messy, spazzy, broken-open heart.