The thing you are afraid to write, write that….

Everyday we walk around, ready for anything that life might throw at us. We wake up everyday still in our mess and we gracefully place on our mask. You know the mask, the one that hides the depression, the unworthiness, it hides the ugly crap morning you just had trying to get the kids to school, it covers the puffy eyes from the tears that poured down your face while sitting in the car trying to collect yourself before you head into work.

These masks are amazing. They bring out laughter, smiles, hugs and energy all while deep inside we are drowning. It allows us to hide every ugly secret of depression and anxiety, so we do not have to explain it to anyone.

My depression scares me. My anxiety scares me. I am scared that at any point will be the day I open my eyes and I just won’t want to get out of bed. It causes me to go through periods of times when I want to hide, under my covers, call my kids father and turn in my mom card, quit work, give up and quit life. It scares me to think there could easily be a day that it completely takes over and I will have no control.

The anxiety that cripples me. When it hits, it brings a wave a fear as if this might be the end, I may very well being dying right now. The waking from a dead sleep and gasping for air. The feeling of a 1000 lbs on your chest telling you this may be a heart attack after all. Its scary that I am at a point so far gone that my grounding techniques no longer work. The breathing in through the nose and exhaling slowly does nothing but allow me to hear and feel my heart pounding so hard. The listing of 10 things I like or remember as a child overtaken by racing thoughts. The touching, smelling, changing your environment means nothing to me when the nausea is all I can think about.

I’ve collapsed from the overwhelming feelings of a panic attack. I’ve paced my house for hours at a time. I have had to pull over just to get myself under control. I ridden in ambulances because I thought I was having a heart attack. I have been on my hands and knees throwing up uncontrollably. I’ve gone days with out sleep or food. I’ve laid face down on my bedroom floor because it was the only comfort I could find. I’ve done some really crazy things just to try to make it all stop. And despite each low and each high, I was alive another day. Until one day, one day was the day. That one day finally came and the mask came off. A day I wish was never part of my story. Sit with me, lets talk….

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