Member-only story
An Open Letter to a Scourge of Souls, Peace, Emotional Stability, and Freedom
Dear anxiety, You SUCK.
I hate you. I hate the disgusting pit you leave in my stomach, the anger accidentally spilling out of my mouth when I’m startled, and the maddening inability to calm down like ever. You’re annoying and you make me mad. Your devastating spiral into depression is often difficult to find and impossible to stop once it’s started.
Hunger makes it worse. Frustration and fear is the name of your game, you jerk. No matter what, you creep into my life and start those constant feelings of worry and dread. Somehow you take my lack of food and turn it into fear and terror that my whole life’s about to collapse and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Just yesterday you sent me into a panic attack because I couldn’t find my wallet with a bunch of jewelry I just got from my grandmother in law who had passed earlier this year. Way to make the rest of my day horrible and it wasn’t even lost to begin with. You just made me feel that way because you’re a miserable jerk.
So, since I’ve quit my job and tons of things that would spike you into an undefeatable monster, I’m now telling you to back off til I have the emotional energy or medication to manage you effectively. I am tired of your crap and you can just go.
Here’s another conversation between anxiety and me:
