Anxiety Journal: Hello, My Old Friend (April 2016)

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From LSU Photography student Katie Joy Crawford’s “My Anxious Heart”

It’s 6:35pm. I just sat down in front of my laptop after trying and failing miserably at napping my way through this rainy Friday. When I seem unable to fall asleep and my mind starts to wander, that’s when you know something’s up. I know last week I wrote a blog post where I said I was fine. Well, I’m not. Or I am. Kind of. Some days. Other days? Not so much. At least that’s what my body seems to think.

I’ve always been clumsy, but last week I started experiencing an important lack of balance. I told my parents, in a joking-haha-I’m-so-clumsy kind of way, who thankfully didn’t find it funny in the slightest and seemed to think I should see a neurologist. No way, I thought. Most times someone goes to Dr. Shepherd – either Derek or Amelia- on Grey’s Anatomy (my very reliable source of information), they end up (brain) dead. TV inflicted fears aside, I go to see my doctor. She makes me stand, walk, touch my nose; tests my reflexes, my pressure, etc. I’m fine, she says. It’s anxiety, she says. She asks if anything’s been bothering me lately. I feel like laughing would be socially rude (not to mention I feel like doing anything but). So I start crying instead. Anxiety? Again? Fuck off.

Apparently, yes, buddies, I was discharged back in September, but anxiety strikes again now. I’m not writing about it just so I can have people’s sympathy. Keep it, I don’t need it. I could care less. I’m writing about it simply because I think we need to have a real, honest conversation about anxiety and the different ways it affects each individual. This is my contribution for now. It’s real, it’s scary and it affects you physically. And when that happens, you feel so fucking weak.

But you can’t let it win. At least I won’t. I’m too competitive. 😉

Tania x

Are You OK?

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Picture this: after your boss texts you in the moning saying you won’t be needed today, you lay in bed, all ready to watch crime tv until the sun goes down and then maybe go for a walk with your dog. Or maybe not. Maybe you’ll just lay here until you run out of episodes to watch. That sounds more likely.

So there I am, rolling around in bed, wondering how the hell Viola Davis manages to be so absolutely badass in every single scene of How To Get Away With Murder, when I feel my phone vibrate somewhere beneath my sheets. It’s a text from a vey good friend of mine. I’m not surprised to get a text from her, we do stay in touch 24/7 anyway, but the text itself does surprise me. “Are you okay? I hope everything’s fine, I’m here to talk if you need it.” Did I say something that made me sound like I wasn’t okay? Being the social media freak that I am – did I retweet, share or snapchat something worrying?

It turns out she was just worried because I’d been very quiet lately. It’s true. The simple explanation? I’ve been all over the place. I’ve been saying yes to every single plan that has come my way and the very few times that I’m actually home, I’m either scrapbooking, writing or binge-watching tv shows. The actual, more complicated reason? I’ve been doing everything in my power to keep myself busy. I’ve been avoiding being alone with my thoughts as much as I’ve been able to, keeping my mind entertained with plans for the future and tricky storylines, like trying to find out who this new A is on Pretty Little Liars (very disappointing, by the way).

The truth is I’ve been through some rough emotional stages over the past two months, so I understand how a lack of communication on my part could lead my friends to think I am having, to a cetain extent, the dark and twisties again. I’m not. I promise. Somebody that I deeply cared about left me, and while it obviously hurt, I am now past sad. I have been there. Hell, I’m tired of being there. I’ve been sad, upset, downright furious, nostalgic and back again. Now, sure, I still get spontaneous bursts of sadness from time to time, whenever good memories randomly pop up in my brain, but it’s getting easier. I’m doing fine. Yes, I was broken up with, but I’ve never been atually broken. Betrayed? Maybe. Fooled? You bet. Stepped on? Definitely. But broken? You need a lot more than a break-up to dim the light of someone like me.

So I guess the short answer is: yes, I am fine. I feel good and at ease with myself. I feel in control, which is what matters the most to me. Everything else will slowly fall back into place.

Tania x

An Open Letter to You

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You, who put me back together
just to shatter me like glass.
You, who took my damn wings
and turned them into wax.
Does that ring a bell?

Well, it’s me.
The girl who tried to build a castle
out of your sandy promises
before you blew it.

I’ll start by being honest
-because I don’t know how to be
anything else-.
I love you.
And I probably will for some time.
But I’ve reached a point where
even loving you feels disrespectful.

You asked me for time, space,
days, weeks, flexibility, advice.
I fought your demons at 4am
while mine were eager to get out.
I cut their damn tongues off.
I set myself on fire
just to light up your darkness.
And, in the name of love, I gave in –
until all we had was a half-assed relationship
and a one-way street.

In return, all I ever wanted
was for you to make a choice.
You knew it was black or white.
I’ll risk it all if you want to try,
but if you decide to go,
leave nothing behind.
I warned you:
the only grey zone I want
to dive in is a medical drama.
Maybe because I expected to learn
how to fix a heart condition.
I don’t know. I didn’t.
All I know is that I ended up
swimming in a sloppy breakup.
All I know is that you are not the sun,
but you keep burning my eyes blind.

I’m tired of working double shifts,
so let this be the last time:
I’m sticking to your choice.
Not because I don’t love you,
but because I do.
And because I don’t want to.
Because in setting you free,
I caged myself
and now I need to fly the nest.

From now on,
you have lost me.
I am calling it off.
Time of death: 2:52 am.

T is for Talkative

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Bunkers del Carmel, Barcelona

Good morning/afternoon/evening,

whenever you are in your day, I hope it’s being so damn great that tonight you will want to write it down to remember it all when you’re old and wrinkly.

I was born twenty-two years ago under the sign of Capricorn, which doesn’t really matter if you don’t believe in Astrology, but I do. Sometimes. Not in that magazine,  the-8th-is-your-lucky-day kind of Astrology, though, but I do. I probably believe in way too many things for somebody who claims to be skeptical. I believe that words can change the world. I believe that whatever you decide to watch, read or write can change your life, who you are and the way you look at things. I believe in having mottos. I believe that, whatever it is, your art matters. (See? That’s my motto. Smoooooth.)

It is because I believe that my art matters that I decided to start writing. Don’t get me wrong – I have always been a writer. I re-wrote a couple of chapters of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone when I was 10, turning Harry into a girl, so you see where I’m coming from. I always think of my thoughts as this big mess in my head that I cannot unravel until I put pen to paper. It’s not until I start writing that I have a clear idea of what I’m feeling. It’s always been like that. But it wasn’t until a couple of years ago that I started to feel comfortable in sharing my writing with the world. In fact, not only did I feel comfortable, but I also enjoyed doing so. And if something is reinforcing the idea that what I do matters, and making me feel good and worthy, why stop doing it?

That’s why this blog was born. My initial goal is merely sharing my views on different topics, most of them probably related to pop culture and/or personal experiences, but I still don’t know what’s going to come out of it. Maybe I’ll end up writing about cats and their favourite toys to play with. With me, you just never know.

You can know more about me by clicking here and here‘s more about where to find me. Thank you for reading – please come back soon!

Tania x