Psyche logo

You Have Anxiety? Fuck You, You Anxious Wimp

Anxiety: The Loud Quiet Disease

By Kimm SmithPublished 6 years ago 5 min read
Like
Photo by Tyler Nix on Unsplash

I suffer from anxiety. I guess you could tell that from the title. It's a disease that is not acceptable, you see, I'm supposed to control myself, and act like a polite adult at all times. Those are my choices. It even takes doctors a period of time to say, "Hey chew that clonopin," yeah, Doc, I really need it because you see I feel like I could fucking really choke someone right now, but instead, I'll chew this pill... for your sake.

I suffer from anxiety, did I say that, and it makes me feel sometimes like the whole world is a clown and I don't particularly like clowns or capitalizing my "I"s. And it's such a quiet loud disease that no one really acknowledges it, because let's face it, it's so much more cool to be depressed. A lot of stars are depressed, you don't hear about so and so who is overly anxious. Why, he's just a fucking jerk! You need to have more patience with people... and dogs. And the world, and so on. Patience, you impatient fucking anxious person.

So, I suffer from anxiety, did I mention that? And it so sucks. Because I'm not an asshole really, I just play one on TV. The disease that really isn't a disease, but a disorder, they call it, I guess. I guess I haven't heard my doctor call it anything. Because maybe she goes home and says this lucky asshole suffers from anxiety.

I'll just rip my bandages off, one by one, and deal with the pain of skin ripping, because I deserve it. I suffer from fucking anxiety and I'm not sure if its a disease or what, but I deal with it, the bastard, day by day, pill before pill. Until I can take it. Take it all. All the bullshit life asks me to take. It's so beautiful you see. It's grand. It's like popscicles in the sky kinda shit. It's high, like a bird in the sky. Excuse me, like Jimi, while I fucking kiss the sky... cuz I'm so high.

I suffer from anxiety... did I tell you that? And it's not like there are days when I'm real inside of the chill, and now that I am medicated, there are more of those puffy cloud days instead of the mania I can express to everyone around me. There are days when I am every weather storm and days when I'm like the tide coming in, calm and cool. Anxiety is everything, a magnification of all there is, feeding the dogs, a cloudy day, my flip-flops break, the cake burned at the bottom, and I'm set off into a spiral of emotions. It's really like your own rollercoaster ride and you don't need a ticket to ride.

At 48, I discovered that my love of beginning projects and never finishing projects was actually a disorder and I had been suffering all those years because I was brainy enough to pull it off, to give teachers and professors what they wanted so they would just leave me the hell alone. I always bragged about this talent, and, now, I see that it was all just a farce, so I could move on to something else, something new, something fresh, something to feed my anxiety hunger for more shit to worry about.

I never used a calendar or a planner, those things are so hot these days, but I that would mean containing myself into some tight space and you can't throw temper tantrum in a tight space. I mean, you could, but you're likely to hurt yourself. So no time limits for me, though I've learned to live with them and I am also even better at acting like the rest of the world. You know, those people who act as though they are bothered by nothing when they really want to scream. Well, I'm learning, as I said, the medication I take is always handy because though orange is the new black, I'm not into either. I like my freedom which keeps me from strangling strangers.

Luckily, my family is really nowhere to be found. Many have died at early ages and that may have contributed to my fiery angst transformed into this familiar but disrespected disorder. I remember when depression was looked down upon, now everyone is coming out and or giving up, while those of us with extra fire in our souls, just keep quiet until something happens where enough is truly enough and now I feel abused by my own self or not letting the steam out little by little instead of just BLOWING!

I don't want to sound ungrateful for life. I'm not. I'm grateful for my best friend who deals with clinical depression and knows me as just the opposite. I mop the floor when the energy builds up, so I'm a good anxious friend to have. I'd want me for a friend, mopping the floor instead of doing cartwheels throughout the house yelling, "Why isn't anyone stopping this!" But no one knows what to stop and no one really knows how to bring the calm after the storm. Only I know how to do that. You see when I look at myself afterwards in the mirror, after the tantrum, I look like a crazed being with wide eyes who is embarrassed about her recent behavior. Recent, being five minutes before.

I write this because I know I am not alone. It just feels that way. It's a dramatic feeling. What kind of feelings would you expect from someone with anxiety? Certainly, I know I can help others realize that unlike some people, whom I truly respect for their decision, I believe in medicine. It saved the life I wanted to live. And if you are trying to address this on your own and it's not working for you, see a doctor and at least try a different route to sanity as we know it.

anxiety
Like

About the Creator

Kimm Smith

I am. The art and the artist. Expansive always seeking to learn. I write, sing, counsel, make things, read Tarot and oracle. Make my own cards. I make, I create but mostly I'm me.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.