Why Anxiety Makes My Ordinary Days Exhausting

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Kristy Gizinski

This will be the first time I have sat down and written while actively being in an anxietyloop and triggered. Most times, I write about them after I have had some time after seeing my therapist and when they feel more managed. Anxiety loops take so much of any leftover energy that I just can’t stay up to write or I just can’t find the time.

For the past two weeks, I have had nightmares almost nightly. I am actually crying in my sleep and wake up crying. They are torturous and graphic and just horrible. And then my head keeps replaying things and I just can’t let it go. I am trying to be present because I know that it’s anxiety. And I am scared.

All day, I think about death — my own death, my kids’ deaths and anyone I care about. I am worried about them all the time. I want to be present, I want to be here but I also don’t want to be in any more pain. After all that I have been through, all that I have survived, all that I am trying to heal and trying to grow from could all be taken away from me.

There is no gauge on how much pain a person will experience in a lifetime. I mean, I could still experience my greatest tragedy in my lifetime. What a dark looming thought. It makes my chest hurt. I know better than to stir that for too long and I do remember, with all the sadness and tragedy, that there are the miracles and love and kindness and good times. And they outweigh the others, I am sure of it. But it just feels so heavy, so deep a feeling. Preparing myself for the moment when my heart is broken again.

I don’t want to miss the good days, I want to be all in these so full of love days. I really do, but I am so so scared that I won’t have those days anymore. My therapist has to remind me that healing “Little Kristy” won’t hurt as bad as when it actually happened cause I am not actively there anymore, I am safe. I have choices. I have an escape. But the thought of accepting my childhood feels much sadder and heavier than it did when I was in it. The idea that it won’t hurt and why it won’t hurt as bad makes sense. The heaviness on my chest, nausea in my stomach, the dizziness in my head tells me that it’s going to be bad.

I am so tired. I am tired of my nightmares. I am tired of having to do all the things. I just want to be confident. I just want my head to be quiet. I just want to be comfortable in my skin. I just want to know how to handle things without being so set back or triggered. I want to be proud. I want to stick up for myself. I want a do-over. But I don’t get one. This is my life. I have choices, and escape routes and a voice. Those three things always seem to be missing from my view when I need them. Not because they aren’t there, but because I forget that I have them.

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