Thoughts of an Avalanche

 I have so many things to be grateful for, and I am, but why was I chosen to end up this way? The word "anxiety" doesn't describe this sinking feeling, this feeling of drowning while still on land, this feeling of impending doom, when everything is seemingly fine. Our planet keeps spinning, but my world seems to stand still. I take two steps forward and five steps back. I've always been told healing isn't linear, but it always feels like I'm on a rollercoaster with only hills that never end. With high highs and low lows, anxiety doesn't care how worn out you are. While life continues around me, I struggle to find meaning in each day. These days start to feel the same, they blur together like a distant memory. I wake up, feel anxious, journal while sitting outside, do yoga, go on a bike ride, garden, or read, while internally trying to let the anxious feelings pass, but it seems like they never fully do. I bask in the small moments of "calm" I have during the day. I guess the only thing to do now is to have faith and hope. Faith and hope are what make humans continue to wake up each day. I have hope that this new medication will work. I have hope that this anxiety cycle will stop someday soon. While some days my hope is thinner than others, hope is what will drive this change. Hope will push me over the roller coaster hill, hope will make the ride stop. 

How does the mind create so much uncertainty when it's been here before? Uncertainty is around every corner of my brain, even for experiences that have happened before. I have had these same exact thoughts, and just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, just when I thought there was no coming up for air, everything got better. Because HEALING IS NOT LINEAR. 

Somewhere deep down, I believe God doesn't give us anything we can't handle. That sounds impossible to say, but each person was created differently. Each person has different levels of sensitivity and different levels of resilience. But sometimes I wonder what God saw in me, what about me told him I could handle something so torturous? I've always been such a hyper-sensitive person, and to give me a "disease" in which the brain is constantly fighting itself, and progress gets torn down by a single thought, seems unfair. 

That's just it. The struggle is all worth it to prove to myself how strong I am. I may be hypersensitive, but I'm not weak. If life were so easy for me, I wouldn't grow. I wouldn't reflect and build from my past self. The days that feel so hard are days that I will someday look back on and realize I was always stronger than I gave myself credit for. 

I've convinced myself that I'm weak. I've convinced myself that there's no way I can push past this panic, but I have, and I will. You may be wondering how I know this. Say it with me. "Healing is not linear." 

Signing off, 

Sincerely, 

Bri's Brain