I wonder what it's like to not be anxious all the damn time.

To not feel like a rope is tied around your neck, tightly wound, digging into your thin skin.

To not feel like a three ton hippopotamus is sitting comfortably on your chest, taking a nap while you suffer underneath.

To not worry about things out of your control, or things that don't need your attention at that exact moment.

I wonder.
A lot.

Because this is my life, all day every day. I mean sure, I get a reprieve here and there.
I do sleep.
I do laugh and have fun.
I do have good days.

But the majority of the time, my days are riddled with anxiety.
And you wouldn't know it.

I'm pretty good at covering it up.
You'd even call me a pro.
You'd never even know that my insides are bubbling like a volcano getting ready to explode.

My smile masks everything.
My chattiness pulls your attention elsewhere.
My willingness to be in good company distracts me.

But I'm anxious.
Sometimes with triggers, and sometimes without.

It's been over twenty years of ups and downs.
Of learning how to function with constant nerves.
Of doing my best to keep my cool when I feel like I might crumble into a million pieces.

I'm an anxious person.
And that's just the way it is.

But I do the best I can to live my life in spite of it. See less