Psyche is powered by Vocal.
Vocal is a platform that provides storytelling tools and engaged communities for writers, musicians, filmmakers, podcasters, and other creators to get discovered and fund their creativity.
How does Vocal work?
Creators share their stories on Vocal’s communities. In return, creators earn money when they are tipped and when their stories are read.
How do I join Vocal?
Vocal welcomes creators of all shapes and sizes. Join for free and start creating.
To learn more about Vocal, visit our resources.Show less
I couldn't wait to grow up when I was younger. I was thrilled that I had my whole life ahead of me, and it was up to me to choose what I wanted to do and who I wanted to be. I had no idea I would be blindsided in my adult life and lose sight of who I am—was.
I was always told to pick my own battles, but unfortunately, anxiety is a fight I couldn't choose to decline because it came from my own mind. It made itself a home in my body and leaked incessant lies, irrational thoughts and fears, and eventually took me to the point where I stopped living my life. I stopped going out. I stopped leaving my home altogether unless absolutely necessary. I stopped talking to my friends. I stopped trying to make new ones. I quit.
Never did I imagine I would be living this way. I can't bring myself to even consider this living, but rather merely existing because I feel so empty, so tired, so lost and so low.
Naturally I would turn to friends, but in this battle I've been forced to face the reality of who my friends actually are: people who I once had things in common with but now have grown apart. Of course it wasn't always that way. In the beginning of my journey, I was quick to reach out, but even quicker to learn what I know now: when you need your friends the most, that's when they'll show you who they really are.
Most people might turn to family, but that's a battle in and of itself. I have always felt like the black sheep of my family, and it's because I am. I have no qualms for it, but I'm treated as such. I know I'm loved unconditionally, but it's by people who not only fail to understand the complexity of my situation, but fail to know and accept who I truly am; even if I don't know who I am myself.
A paradox weaved so intricately into my mind that I'm forced to face my own reality: I don't know who I am anymore, but I know this is not me. I'm in the middle, perhaps, of who I thought I was and who I truly am. Like a snake shedding its skin, except I feel that much more exposed and vulnerable because I have nothing underneath.
It's heartbreaking to look back on photos before I lost sight of myself because in those photos, I'm looking at the me that was. I cried recently looking at a photo that was taken at a time when I was sure I knew who I was; and I did. I was happy. I was free. I was loved. I was unbothered by the thoughts and feelings that plague my now fragile being. I was ruthless, fearless and willing to take on anybody that told me otherwise. Now, I can't help but mourn the loss of my old self because I don't know who I am, and all I want is to be.
Caught in the in-between is a difficult place to be, especially because I've been here so long. Each time I even try to live normally, I am beaten down by my own mind. A part of me that was once so positive and filled with dreams is now a part of me I wish I didn't have because change seems impossible.
But I'm possible.
I can feel something within me growing. Sick of living this way? Probably. Ready for a change? Yes. Anger? Absolutely, but an anger powered by the fear I harbor, an anger backed by the fierceness I used to know; an anger from this empty being because something new is coming. Someone new is coming.