It seems everyone has some sort of anxiety these days. Or OCD. Or depression. Looking at any social media feed, having any small amount of sadness, perfectionism, or worry allows you to self diagnose yourself. This makes it a little difficult for someone like me who actually has anxiety and depression.
Mental illness isn’t cute. It’s not fashionable. It’s not an excuse. It’s not convenient or way to explain away feelings. And it’s not cured by likes or thumbs up on social media.
This leads me to my point. I am actively trying to help end the stigma of mental illness. So, I talk about my issues and struggles. If I see a meme or picture that hits a nerve, I will share it.
Enter the meme.
This is my anxiety. Sometimes, this part of my brain doesn’t wait until you leave. It kicks in during our conversation. It causes me to stop speaking. My heart pounds in my chest. My palms and feet sweat. I stutter. And I hate it.
All because my anxiety tells me to shut up. They don’t care. They don’t like you. They’re just being nice.
Logically, I know people like me. I know my husband loves me. But, during an anxiety attack my logical brain isn’t working.
I know the anxiety part of my brain lies to me. Even if it’s not lying, it plants a seed. I say things like, “I know the King loves me.” My anxiety says, “But what if he doesnt?” “No. No. He loves me.” “What if Ex is right and you’re unlovable?” “He’s not.” “But, what if?” “You know, you might be right.”
So, I know I’m loved. I feel I’m loved. But it’s hard in the moment when you have this conversation on a regular basis. And it’s not just about people loving or liking you. It’s about words you say and how you say them. It’s about doing something and worrying if it pissed someone off.
I’m working through my issues. Part of this means sharing my struggles. My struggle might help others win their battle.
I hope this helps.