An Open Letter To My Anxiety.

Anxiety,

You and I have been living together for years, although we are not the best of friends, living with you is like being followed by a voice. You know all my insecurities and you use them against me. At some points, all I can hear is your voice in a room full of voices.

I don't remember when I met you for the first time, we've known each other for so long you are like family. The crazy aunt or uncle that you only see at family gatherings. You were so mean to me when you said 'I am not going anywhere anytime soon,' and I realised you were telling the truth for once. And I believed you.

You and I we fight almost constantly, over the littlest of things, such as leaving the house or catching the bus. I tried to make you leave, tried to kick you out, but you stood up and said no. You didn't want to leave, you got worse each time you came back. But you bought your cousin: Depression. I didn't leave the house for a week; contemplating how to get rid of you the best way. But getting rid of you would mean getting rid of myself. And I didn't want that to happen.

I hope I could say that you and depression had left me alone after all the fighting, but unfortunately, you didn't. You two attacked me at the same time and I couldn't escape you both. I was living in fear when you had turned my own mind, my own body against me, and I had no control over myself but to ride the attack out. Whenever I thought of something good, you made me think that I wasn't good enough, that I will never be good enough.

You force me to over analyse everything, to the point, where I still over analyse everything and can barely function in social situations. To the point where I exhaust myself when talking to people. I had worked so hard to become someone who mattered, someone who was a social butterfly, but you turned me into someone who didn't because I had become a hermit. And that is because of you. You are someone who is always in the room, always on my back telling me that I will never be good enough for anything, but sometimes that stops, sometimes you take a break.

But when you're away that's when I plan my attack, I learn to love myself and I get to know who I am as a person, and I'm planning my attack. I've decided to not let my mind wander to the point where you have it in your grasp. Rather, when I feel you there, getting ready to attack, I swear I won't be frightened anymore. I know that you're telling me lies, and I have the strength to know that you're lying. I can and will pull myself up, dust you off and continue on my own.

All I'm here to say is:

You haven't won. It's over.