It's 4:13 again...
Anxiety wakes me up at 4:13 in the morning and reminds me of everything I have to do "in the morning." Anxiety keeps telling me my list of to-dos over and over again until suddenly it is "in the morning" and I have not yet gone back to sleep. Anxiety makes me want to weep when my alarm clock sounds, it makes me frazzled and shaky when my routine is thrown off. Anxiety makes my chest seize and my thoughts race when my phone rings or even so much as buzzes more than twice in a row. Anxiety tells me I'm too fidgety with untamed energy to sit still but also too tired to sit up. Anxiety makes me lay on the cold floor of my bathroom long after the steam of my shower has evaporated, staring into space, memories and made-up conversations warring in my head. Anxiety makes me realize at 4:13 in the afternoon that is indeed "afternoon" and I have not yet eaten. Anxiety tells me I am broken but, it tells me no one will care that I am hurting, no one will answer if I call for help, and no one will believe me if I admit that I am broken. Anxiety makes my voice shake when I meet someone new, makes me pop my knuckles and bite my nails when I talk to someone I want to impress, and makes me too scared to stand up for myself when I am angry. Anxiety tells me I am not good enough and never will be. Anxiety tells me everyone is judging me. Anxiety keeps me up until 4:13 in the morning, even though "morning" simply becomes early passed late. Anxiety keeps me lost, drowning, stuck in my own head, waiting for the sun to rise again. Anxiety makes me acutely aware of every detail of my day and night. Anxiety makes itself comfortable in my bed, yet not so comfortable as to let me lay in peaceful slumber along side it. Anxiety thinks it is powerful, thinks it is resilient... and it is. But so am I.
