As I grow older, I am getting used to spending time with my anxiety. Just sitting on the corner of my mind, mostly about my work life, once or twice per week, no worries (pun).
Most of the time the crisis occurs when you are not stable enough and there’s some kind of external intervention, like a wave they rocks your boat. If you think about it, you have no reason to react like that. It is not your fault – anxiety makes you feel like you’ve totally lost it. It is a pair of hands shutting your ears, it makes you forget. And then you open your eyes and you see that you are not sitting on the end of the cliff, you are not drowning, you are not lost and alone past midnight 200km away from home.
It’s like that moment when there’s has been a terrible accident and you’ve lost your memory and you find your leather black wallet that she has gifted you all those years ago. You look at your ID, you are 25, mostly healthy except that pain in your knees, you work at an awesome company you helped getting founded and you have a brother and a sister, though you don’t get to see her a lot because she is abroad. You live in a nice cozy house in downtown Athens but you were actually born by the sea. You recently got your passport which means that you are going somewhere and your phone is full of people’s names, which means that you can always go somewhere.
It’s not that you have forgotten all that, it’s just that you haven’t thought about them for quite some time. And now you’re feeling grateful and proud and fuck that shit. We’ll fix what gets fixed and we’ll do whatever works for the rest.
But I also need you to talk to me from time to time. I know that actions speak louder than words but I need the words no less, I need to feel your voice in my ears once again for you are making this world make sense from time to time. I try to remember that I need some constant reminders of me and you and us and that and everything.
Photo by Joao Silas, Unsplash, also published on Medium