In 2014, I experienced my first
anxiety attack.
My heart raced, thoughts were
rampant, zooming at me from all directions, my shoulders stiffened, on edge, I
realised that I had to work really hard to continue breathing, I clenched my
right palm so tight while my left hand grasped the headboard of the bed.
“What is this??”
The first-ever trepidation was confusing and lasted 15 mins – I
passed out on my bed and woke up not being able to understand anything that
took place.
That 15 minutes
changed my entire life. I was 26 and madly in love. I was at my full potential;
my career was booming – I love what I did. Everything seemed perfect – till
that every 15 minutes.
I told myself that
I was probably overwhelmed – besides the good stuff I just spoke about, there
were glitches here and there. That could be it.
I was probably
mentally exhausted – I thought that would be the first and last.
5 years later – I
thought I should talk it all out. Coz seriously #u¢• STIGMA.
I was reminded a few days ago about being the boldest, the strongest.
5 years later – I
have accepted that depression and anxiety, some way or another will simply be
part of my life, part of my identity.
So, here’s where
it is – like acne, I have anxiety. Some days you get pimple
breakouts, some days I have anxiety outbreaks (I love what I did here)
You go out to seek
help for your acne, up in the open, you watch tutorials on Youtube, you look
for the best concealers to cover up the scars.
I do the same –
just differently.
I think most of
you who know me, remember how I was constantly sick in the last 5 years. I was
running out of endorphins. I had no means or motivations to look for
replacements. I had absolutely zero motivation – while I was losing every other
relief I gained, I was fighting external and internal battles.
I couldn’t sleep
anymore – I was prescribed with sleeping pills so that my mind would
rest. Funny thing is, even to this time – I still thought I was just
very tired and overwhelmed. I hated myself, I hated everything – coz I couldn’t
understand the string of events that took place after.
Anxiety exists in
all of us, but mine was holding me hostage. My own mind and the body was
pulling me down to my knees, I couldn’t understand why it was working against
me – I couldn’t explain, I was sinking on my own – while I was building a career in PR.
While I was making
waves outside – I would rush back home to cry my heart out.
I don’t know why –
but it seemed comforting.
Along came the
lifetime offer – Langkawi.
I ran to it –
hoping for a miracle, looking for the peace and happiness I yearned.
Alas, that hope
too did not survive.
What did I not do
right?
I was relying on
external elements/ people for my happiness.
I gave these
elements/people the liberty and expected them to do the right thing for me.
Things again blew
out of proportion – it worsened my anxiety with a racing mind and panic
attacks while at the same time I felt drained and numbed. My loved ones did not
know how to help because I had always been a strong, professional working woman
seemingly able to handle anything. I am a feminist – heck she strong.
She is strong, but
she is extremely tired of always being strong.
But I am still
strong, just tired – RIGHT?
So, I am on a full-on self-discovery mode –
slowly getting that phase back, slowly waking up from the restless slumber I
was in for some time.
What drives me – Hope.
I still have triggers, I still have mood
swings, I still have mixed emotions that surface from time to time – but I am
trying, and every day is a brand-new ray of hope.
Above all, I accepted anxiety as a part of
me.
In conjunction World Mental Health Day – I pray
that you don’t let your hopes die, don’t put that light off.
And to the rest of you – be kind to one
another, it’s free and it could save lives.
The world has lost so many beautiful souls –
still losing one every other minute. Your act of kindness could change so many
decisions.
Let’s remember those who left. Stop calling
them cowards.
You've got to be
mad brave to whack yourself. Suicide takes a lot of balls. The
most courage any human can ever muster. Suicides are the bravest people
who ever lived because they commit the greatest act possible — a deed against
actual existence, against their very being.
Calling them
cowards, after losing them – is unkind. Stop doing that!
They did not live
the best life, let them REST IN PEACE at least.
Thanks.
Best,
Venoshia
Also, here's my four-legged Xanax. I call him Arlo.
