Trigger Warnings: a detailed monologue on anxiety.
Only recently, right after graduating my high school, I moved out of my country to attend university. It is daunting, being 18, POC and fresh out of school, with no experience of how worrisome life can be outside the everyday net of familiarity and sense of belonging. At university I am chasing my dream of becoming a writer but amidst the fragility and rawness of the situation, I chased myself away.
Moving out of my country made me vulnerable. It spiked my anxiety and worsened my insomnia. It introduced me to the pressure of being the best in whatever I do because my skin color might not get me by.
There’s a bakery across the road from where I live. It took me 5 days to muster up the courage and walk in there and order for myself. Even now, every time before I go to the bakery, I visualize the map of the bakery in my head. I think of what I am going to order. I practice what I’m going to say in case they don’t get my accent. I think whether I should carry my card or cash. I contemplate about whether my pants have pockets or not. I brood about carrying a handbag instead but why should I? I am only going across the street. And then I change my pants (if they don’t have pockets) and tuck my card safely in one of the pockets. I walk out of the door,I check my pockets for my card again. What pocket did I keep it in? Left or Right? I tap both sides twice until my fingers brush against the firm surface of the card. I walk out then and finally order. I already have the card in my hand. I don’t want to be slow. Do I remember the pin? Yes I do. Then I chant it like a prayer until I have to punch the digits on the machine. I keep my card in my pocket again and pick my order up. I check my pockets again as I cross the road. And one more time after I am inside my room.
Anxiety isn’t easy to live with. It is being constantly on the edge, chewing your nails as you wait for a situation to implode and engulf you. Each of us experience anxiety differently and we all have different methods of coping. Experts say, talking about it helps.
My family lives some 12,000 miles away and in between us lies an ocean so massive, words fall short. Worrying about me is the last thing I’d want them to do. I write about it instead. It does not really help with the actual anxiety but it cushions the blow of the aftermath of an anxiety attack. I have also learned to reward myself for every little feat I accomplish while simultaneously fighting against the currents of anxiety. I buy myself a cupcake with my usual sandwich every time I am able to visit the bakery.
