I’m about to get real.

I have to break something down for anyone living out there in cyber space and actually paying attention to me.

I started this blog as a way of telling a story, about getting married, being married, and (eventually) becoming a mother.

I guess I got too busy to be able to dedicate any time to it and forgot about it even existing.

My bad.

I am here though, to talk about something real. Real for me anyway. I spent a good majority of my day at work trying to hide the fact that I was crying and physically unable to move.


I’m not talking about the kind of anxiety that happens before I get up on a stage and perform, or even the kind of anxiety that stops you from spending time with your friends. This kind of anxiety is crippling, it gives you one goal. Stop it. Stop it by any means necessary, even if that requires stepping into traffic.

This is the kind of anxiety that makes you afraid to be alone, because you actually might take steps to end your life. The kind of anxiety that leaves you foggy. The people around you think you’re being difficult, or you’re distracted, but you’re trying so hard to keep yourself together that you’re simply not able to concentrate on any one task.

And they just don’t ‘get’ it. They don’t understand that ‘mindfulness’ doesn’t work for you. that you can’t even remember a time in your life that you didn’t have anxiety about something or another.

And it’s like your body needs it. If you aren’t anxious about one thing, you’re anxious about something else. As if your body and mind don’t know how to not be anxious.

Before you know it, you’re in full-blown panic mode and you can’t speak.

My only comfort is the man I’m to be married to in 2 months. The only thing that makes it stop, is being in his presence. I am calm, I can move, I can speak and I can do. Like a halo, a blanketed protection from anything that can hurt me.

I get so angry about this all of the time, because not only is it not fair to him, but it isn’t fair to me. I have been sick with this my entire life, I don’t know a time when I wasn’t sick with this. Countless different drugs, so many different therapists, there is no cure for me.

There is no saving me.

I have to live like this.

This isn’t a life.

I don’t know where this is supposed to go, I just needed to talk it out, even if there is no one listening.


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