Behind the scenes: Anxiety

I get a little tired of people asking me why I can’t just ‘snap out of it’ or ‘shake it off’ when I feel depressed or anxious. I’m not a dog and depression and anxiety aren’t drops of water. It’s rather difficult to articulate what happens in an anxiety attack, but I’ll attempt it anyway, if nothing else to prove that I do not lack determination or courage!

It feels like there is a trapped, feral animal, pounding on the door to be let out. If I let it out, there will be tears and blood and savagery. Fear and anger. Helplessness and rage. Flashbacks from the past, imagined doom from the future. Sometimes opening the front door, stepping past the threshold and feeling the world on my skin is like exposing my nakedness to the harshness of searing heat and burning cold, all at the same time. My heart beats in a panic rush, trying to lunge into my throat. My chest tightens, my ribs contract. Every breath feels like a crisis, pushing precious air through paths that are collapsing.

The phone rings and my heart drops through the floor of my chest, somewhere into my churning stomach. I want to scream, pee, swallow air through a gasping mouth, all at the same time. My eyes push against my head, the sockets ache. Someone says something to me, asks a question and there are flashes in front of my eyes, like electrical circuits have clashed horribly and I feel blinded temporarily. Hot and cold flashes on my skin. My arms, legs, back, neck feel clammy and scalded, at the same time. My clothes chafe against my skin and the rising heat permeates my skin. I force myself to stay awake, terrified of sleep, of nightmares, of a new day starting at the end of a night.

And while all this is happening, I have to work, live, love, cook, talk, laugh. There are two of me. One that surges with the anxiety, holds it at bay, is soaked in it and fights the battle everyday, sometimes forced to hide behind shut doors. The other does all the other stuff, the normal stuff that people need to see. Sometimes the battling me leaks into the other one and my hands shake, I feel dizzy, my mind struggles with simple thought like a senile mind childishly putting a puzzle together, incorrectly. I get confused by the days of the week, change in my pocket, how to drive a car. I can’t make any decisions, not even what clothes to wear.

So there, that’s what my anxiety looks like.