White Knuckled

This anxiety is a white knuckled fist that will not let go of me no matter how hard I try to pry its dirty fingers off of me.

This anxiety is the weight that sits on my chest at random moments throughout the day, when I feel as if something is crushing me and I am holding at my chest trying to make my heart beat normally again.

This thing it wants to define me, asks me to become one with it, but I refuse again and again.

I am me, and this will not define me.

Sometimes it can be hard to breathe, it can be hard to think without overanalyzing every little thought or detail. When it becomes hard to breathe I feel as if I am drowning in a sense, but I swim to the surface and I gasp for air and I scream that I am alive and still here more than ever.

I am here and sometimes I have to prove that to myself, I have to do the things that make me feel my own breathe. When I write I breathe through my hands, I feel the deep inhales and exhales of my lungs with each new word inked. I can see my blood inked onto the paper, I can see that I am here.

I was always one with open ears for others, always ready to battle with my friends insecurities and struggles, but when it came to looking in the mirror and pinpointing my own mental health I found it very hard to label. I would look away and look for other problems to solve.

I think in my case, I was scared to face the fact that I had my own struggle, I had anxiety but I was scared to label it, I was scared to admit that I had to help myself and let others listen.

Battling with anxiety, is a continuing journey, but I continue to breathe even when it is hard, I allow myself to learn that my mind does not make me crazy just because I think differently. I have learned to appreciate the details, I have learned that it is okay to struggle, it is okay not to be okay but it is not okay to avoid struggle, you have to face it. You have to learn to breathe, like really learn how to breathe.

Anxiety still is white knuckled and there is times where I find it is hard to control or tame or I forget how to breathe, but in those moments I remember that I have a God that is bigger than me, that I was made for a purpose that he put the air in my lungs that He is there and that I am beloved, no matter if I struggle. In those moments, I remember that I can ask him for help and that this thing will not conquer me, that I am not alone in this struggle but I am held.

- A.S. // love + grow