Anxiety’s battle scars

She always braids her hair when she is feeling down. It must be a nervous impulse. The last few years have aged her. She’s not the same person. Many of her friends are too busy to even call her. She feels like nobody sees her. Invisible.

She hears people talking about having a mellow holiday season. Just a few friends over. Visits with family. Just relaxing. She wishes she was that person. That person that has dinners with friends, gets invited to get togethers. Has a group of friends to hang with. She’s tired of planning a coffee date a month in advance due to people being “so busy”.

She fantasizes about moving to a smaller town where everyone knows each other. Smiles and says hello. Asks how life is going. Drops by just to chat.

She grew up in a small town and feels lost in the big city. The hustle and bustle. Feels like “just a number”. She’s exhausted keeping up the persona of having the perfect life. She’s tried to express her inner turmoil to friends and family only to be met with anger, finger pointing and name calling. She has not outlet. No more money for Counselling.

The inner turmoil continues. Sometimes it builds up and she turns her sadness inward. Takes a sharp object and makes little cuts. The cuts feel nice. The physical pain masks the emotional pain. It’s hard to find places on her body to hide from others. She’s been shamed for it before. Thrown in her face. Told she’s a weak person.

She tries to find ways to cope. Sometimes alcohol, cannabis oil, Valium NyQuil, anything to numb out. It works. She falls asleep. She prays she will be out for hours. The nights being her comfort. Daytime is often unbearable. She feels like she is standing in the middle of a busy street and the world swirls around her in a blur. She has no momentum, no purpose, no direction.

Life has left her with many battle scars. She’s scared, alone, afraid….

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