The Unpredictability of Anxiety

What is Anxiety?

How can it best be described? In my view, it is simply a fear of the future. Fear of the unknown, whether days or minutes in advance. Whether it’s a job interview, a family gathering, a doctor’s appointment, we all get anxious from time to time. But when it interferes with our everyday existence to the extent that we don’t want to even go out of the front door, to meet our friends or simply to go to the shops, that is the time to seek professional help.

I suffer from crippling bouts of anxiety. To start with, I’ve had clinical depression since 2007. The anxiety has got worse in the last two to three years. I can go months without anxiety rearing its ugly head, but on other occasions it can strike without warning, sending me into a spiral of isolation and despair.

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Coping: This is Who We Are – Entry 5: “We Are All Continuous and Beautiful Works In Progress”

This submission comes from Rebecca, the creator of this wonderful piece of art that was published last week on the website. Her story details the intensity of anxiety and the panic that can accompany it. As with most Coping entries, it’s lengthy, but I promise you it’s worth the read.

Here’s Rebecca’s story.


How do you explain to your daughter in fourth grade that you can’t continue to pick her up  early from school day after day, even when she is sobbing on the phone in the nurse’s office? How do you come home to see that same girl two years later, white as a ghost, talking to herself in between hyperventilation gasps?

I couldn’t really tell you because I was that girl.

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I don’t know where my anxiety stemmed from then, but I guess that is why I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. It’s an odd experience to be twelve years old, having already seen three different therapists and now taking medicine every day because of something called “anxiety and depression”. It is also an odd experience to be in high school and to begin to realize that the same medicine that has been “fixing” you for four years is now not working as well and that the anxiety and depression can come back way worse than it had ever been. And now they have a new friend.

Suicidal thoughts.

Coping: This Is Who We Are dear hope

Dreamless/Sleepless: Does Dreaming Encourage Sleeping?

Dreams have always been an interesting concept to me, mostly because I never remember mine. Sometimes I wish I did, but than again I don’t remember nightmares either. I like to think that my mind is so busy during the day because it never exercises itself while I’m asleep. It just goes to show that dreamers of the day are dangerous men.

I can admit I think too much for my own good. So much so that it keeps me up most nights. Every time I lie down it’s a battle just to silence myself. I want to believe it’s because I don’t dream. I can’t dream. I don’t know how. It’s difficult for me to accept that one moment I’ll be lying in bed trying to sleep and before I know it I’m waking up. Like no time has passed at all. Without dreams to bridge the sleep it becomes meaningless.

It becomes nothing.

Why would my brain want to stop working?

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“We Are All Continuous and Beautiful Works In Progress”

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We do not wear our illnesses like badges, they seep into the back of our minds and can hide in the background. Sometimes however, we do have things visible to the naked eye. Sometimes we have scars, scratch marks, or other forms of self-harm that streak our bodies. Regardless of our struggles, it is important that we see the vibrant, beautiful people that we are and do not let our disorders keep us from blossoming.

“We are all continuous and beautiful works in progress.”

Here’s A beautiful piece or art created and submitted by Rebecca. Check out the accompanying Coping: This is Who We Are piece she wrote here.

A Lens Into Our World dear hope

Coping: This Is Who We Are – Entry 4: “Sleep On It”

When you look back on your teenage years, you usually have the memories of parties, being social with friends, planning future career ideas, finding your way through puberty…

I remember illness.

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I was forced to grow up quickly, at a young age.

While my friends were having their birthday parties, I was at home on the floor; crouched in a ball with my mum trying to feed me Parachoc through my wails.

While everyone began working their first jobs, I was in an Adolescent Clinic for sufferers of Eating Disorders.

During Graduation, I had Glandular Fever and was bedridden.

My first year of university had many absences, as I was diagnosed with Grade II Reflux Oesophagitis.
Depression was, inevitable.

Coping: This Is Who We Are dear hope

I am

I am surrounded by friends. I am alone. 

I am confident. I am insecure. 

I am complete. I am broken. 

I am healthy. I am sick. 

I am one. I am two. 

I am not the same as you.

I am two. But I am one.

I am sick. But I am strong.

I am broken. But I am rebuilding.

I am insecure. But I am moving forward.

I am alone. But I have found comfort in knowing,

We are all the same.

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Creative Pieces dear hope

Overbooked: Help Put On Hold

Trigger Warning For Suicide Discussion:

This is it.

It would be this easy to end it.

It would be this easy to take a life. 

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He stood against the cold metal looking straight ahead into the scarce clouds that dotted the city skyline. The sounds of engines combusting gasoline and turning pistons filled in the gaps behind him that reflected the back of his eyes with imagery. But this what just background noise.

Feedback.

Static.

Just like his mind on a constant basis.

He slowly looked down to the waters below. It was so far down. Is this what I truly want? He fought back to look in his mind for any reason not to step forward the six inches between life and death. But he found none. He heard footsteps of people walking down the sidewalk on the side of the bridge. But no one stopped. No one asked.

No one cared.

His eyes began to water as the breeze from the river brushed into his reaming emotions. How did it come to this? How did it come to the point where he wanted to die? Where each day he went to sleep hoping he wouldn’t wake up?

Article Creative Pieces dear hope

A Phone Call To Connecticut, A Phone Call From Idaho

Last fall, I called a friend who I hadn’t spoken to in a long time and got the following response:

“Paul if I don’t change something, I’m not going to survive winter. 

I’m going to kill myself.”

Struck by the suddenness of his words that pierced my ear that the phone was pressed against, I responded the only way I could. With empathy and full attention.

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I knew this friend had been struggling for a long time, we had been friends for years. Our struggles united us, and we had many talks through our friendship of existentialist questions filled with identity and purpose. But it had never been had real as this.

It had never been as scary as this. 

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