Anxiety is a bubble forming in my chest, almost about to pop, but it never does. Every day, it begins as a liquid and as the day moves forward, the bubble slowly blows bigger. It goes grows then shrinks, shrinks then grows. Panic attacks are a needle inching their way throughout my body until it reaches to the bubble, ready to pop it at any moment. And once it’s popped, I feel completely and utterly defeated.
Because of anxiety, I have let several opportunities to live a great life slip through my fingertips like ash in the wind. It has stopped me from doing things I’ve always wanted to do and meet people I’ve always wanted to meet and I let it. I let it drag my arm away from life and into a dark cave of loneliness and sorrow. Before any decision or any thought, it whispers in my ear. The things it tells me go from every possible motive that could go wrong in the situation I’m in to convince me that I’m not good enough to go through with whatever I wanted to accomplish.
Sometimes I get angry. So angry that I push anxiety against the wall right before doing what it’s been telling me not to do. I hold my breath and take control, not wanting to be told what to do any longer. More than half of the time, nothing I was told ever happens and a great feeling of achievement thrives in my heart.
But other times, I listen to the anxiety and to its points. Not a word of doubt leaves my lips, sitting on the tip of my tongue. I take a step back, letting the butterflies spread their wings and flutter underneath my heart and let them eat me alive and walk away. Images of what could’ve been a different future swim in the pools that fill my eyes. My fingers crave adventure so much that they shake. It’s like the adrenaline someone feels when they are at the top of a rollercoaster, just seconds before it rushing down.
People express the way anxiety feels for them. Some say it’s like running constantly or being trapped in a glass box and you’re watching life pass from afar. For every person, it’s a different metaphor. For me, life is constantly the feeling your stomach gets the second before the rollercoaster drives down that hill.