Hey popcorns 🍿
We’re on Day 10, which means the finish line is in sight 😂 Honestly I’m pretty darn excited to have this over with as I have so many posts I want to post so hopefully I can get onto them once this is finished!
Alrighty, let’s jump straight into this then ☀️
DISCLAIMER: some themes in this may hit too close to home, so if your know you might find this offending or upsetting then read at your own risk 💀
If you’d like to see more info about this Writing Challenge or are interested in joining the fun then simply click here for more info and the list of prompts for each of the fifteen days of writing ✍️
Writing Challenge 2020 Day 9: write a story about someone with anxiety
Son of a motherless goat I cannot do this.
“You’re going to be fine Samara,” my best friend reassured me over the phone, knowing all too well how ranked up my anxiety is at the moment with the circumstances.
“But w-what if- what if- what if something happens? What if something happens to you and I can’t call anyone because my phone is dead and then you die and then it’s all my fault?” I word vomited into the phone, barely pausing for breath.
No, no, NO! My meds are supposed to be working. Why do I feel like this?
Why is my brain so f****ing messed up? Why can’t I just be normal?
Dropping the phone and hearing it smash, I collapsed onto the floor and started sobbing with no tears coming out my body shaking with each onslaught of emotions.
“SAMARA? SAMARA? GET YOUR ASS OVER TO THE PHONE… I’M COMING ROUND!” I heard Lily scream down the phone, her voice dangerously loud seeing as she wasn’t on speaker.
Everyone else has these perfect brains to go with their perfect family to go with their perfect lives.
And then there was just me.
A girl with a messed up brain and crippling anxiety. I felt tired, but tired in the way sleep can’t fix.
You know when you say ‘oh my life’s a rollercoatser’? Well try mine. Because honestly, half the time I’m not even on the rails but plummeting straight down to the ground.
I remember a bitter memory of when I was little, I used to scream at whoever was up there at why they made me this way, then I’d sob into my already soaking pillow, then I’d dream about what it would be like to be normal.
Where each task wasn’t so big and scary. Where ever possibility of everything that could go wrong would flash through your brain at a million miles away. Where the thought of even stepping out my own home sometimes scared me.
That is my normal.
I am so messed up.
All my psychiatrists and doctors tell me it was normal, and other people feel like me too.
What a load of BS.
They give me hundreds of leaflets of new groups I could join hosting weekly or sometimes daily meetings with god-awful catch lines like ‘a problem shared is a problem halved’ and ‘your not alone’.
I never turned up, too scared to show people and broken I was. Too scared I’d be the only one there who felt like I felt. Too scared I was alone.
I’d been staring at those leaflets for the past twenty minutes, so lost in my own toxic thoughts I didn’t hear the front door slamming or the loud pitter patter as someone sprinted up the stairs.
My best friend’s soothing reassurances and her warm, safe hands wrapped around my body to keep me safe were enough for tears to tart rolling own my cheeks before my body was racked with sobs.
“Hey, hey. It’s gonna be okay.”
I cried and cried and cried. And then I cried a little bit more.
But deep, deep down in my heart, I knew that someday it would be okay.
I had to take a break from this because I started proper crying! 😢 To think that some people go through this their whole lives and worse. Why do these people deserve this? Life Just. Isn’t. Fair.
I hope I haven’t teared you all up *passes Kleenex* bu I definitely teared myself up 😂 Whatever your going through, someday it will be okay. Coud be a day, could be ten years. You don’t know, but you do know that you’ll feel happiness again 💕
Stay happy, stay safe and that’s a wrap! 💖