Just a rant:(

When I was a kid, I was really terrible with my anxiety. In high school, I started dreading seeing people so much that I stopped eating and slept in the bathrooms the entire day using Benadryl to knock me out just so I wouldn’t see other people (and because I was deeply ashamed). I was really, really bad. 

After that, I began Lexapro and went to therapy. Now, I can finally go to school and work! But I still have that anxiety. I don’t know if it’ll ever leave. And every time someone tells me I need to worry less, it hurts, because I really have been worrying less. But I feel like there’s a limit, and maybe being always a bit anxious is just who I am. 

I have so many things to be proud of. Last year, I was elected class rep in my college program and I couldn’t believe it! I’m barely social at all, but I do genuinely love my classmates and was so honoured to have been chosen by them. Then, this summer I got a job I really wanted. 5 years ago, this all would’ve been impossible. Honestly, I didn’t even think I’d be alive at this age.

Yet, I’m still someone who asks questions constantly “just to make sure”. I still struggle to say “hello” to people and make small talk. My job requires talking to clients, and I do it. But each time, I have to prep myself mentally being stepping out and having that talk. It’s ALWAYS a struggle. But I do it, and that’s what I’m proud of.

But I know most people don’t need to do that. And I get told (mostly jokingly) that I worry too much. And I know I do… but I’m so proud of how far I’ve come. So being told to “worry less” is like a punch in the gut. It makes me wonder what was ever the point, if I’ll always be that one anxious person who people see as uptight and paranoid. I stop feeling proud and begin feeling like a failure.

Genuinely though, I don’t see how I can improve. Yes, I do still have some level of general anxiety that follows me everywhere. But I can work, and I can interact with others now. And generally, I am content with life. I do not think about my anxiety under most circumstances. Perhaps I could up my Lexapro dosage, and that may help. Honestly, maybe I should, since every time I get told to stop worrying I cry. I hate crying, and I really don’t know why it stings so much. I really just want to be normal but I don’t think I ever will be completely normal. Why can’t it be enough that I’m here, that I’m a functioning member of society? 

I wish I wasn’t born this way. But I am content with who I am now, and 5 years ago I would’ve wished that I wasn’t born at all. But I don’t know what more I can do.