Jump to content

Search the Community

Showing results for tags 'anxiety'.



More search options

  • Search By Tags

    Type tags separated by commas.
  • Search By Author

Content Type


Categories

  • Submissions

Categories

  • Submissions

Categories

  • Records

Categories

  • Records

Categories

  • Records

Categories

  • Records

Forums

  • The Slam
    • Poetry
    • Fiction
    • Creative Nonfiction
  • Community
    • Whatever
    • Role Play
    • Survey Says

Categories

  • Zines
  • Odds and Ends

Calendars

  • Community Calendar

Blogs

  • The CICADAverse
  • Artist Allies

Found 5 results

  1. lessons from my past

    i am a little girl and we are walking. 'i just don't know, daddy,' i say. it's a bright day, with the sky a bright cotton-candy blue and the clouds chasing each other across its expanses. the news is riddled with politics, as it always is, but i am only just starting to open my eyes to it. 'i don't even know if i'm a democrat or a republican.' he eyes me for a moment. 'ok,' he says thoughtfully. 'well, it should be pretty easy to tell.' 'ask me questions,' i say. 'and tell me by my answers what i am.' and he does. he asks me many things. he asks me about black and white and freedom and confinement. he asks me about the death penalty. he asks me about abortion. some of these things are easier to answer than others. there's one, though, that stands out to me now. we're three-quarters of the way home, and the hill is steep enough that the dog is starting to lag. 'what about gay marriage?' he says. this is before it's been legalized, and we are in north carolina where politics has always been a few steps behind. i think about this for a moment. i have an answer but i don't know how to say it. 'i think,' i say carefully, laden with eight-year-old wisdom and confining societal philosophy, 'that they should be allowed to marry. it's weird and i don't think it's...natural, or whatever, but it's not my business what they do.' we stop as the dog sniffs a spot in the grass. my father is frowning slightly, eyeing me with a thoughtful gaze. 'why isn't it natural?' he asks, and i pause. 'it just...isn't.' he tells me that it is. that it's perfectly natural. i'm troubled, and doubtful, but i am eight years old and i do not question the things i'm told. (he tells me i'm probably a democrat, based on my other answers, though it doesn't really matter at this stage in life.) homosexuality comes up more and more over the years and i start to warm to it. it's still weird, and unnatural, but i brush it to the side. if they're happy, then fine. i don't care. and besides, it's not like i'm gay. i've had crushes on boys, right? and, after all, you can't be gay if you don't want to be. that's what i think, ten years old and staring out the car window. you can't be gay if you don't want to be. you hate that, right? you hate everything i've said. it's funny to think you might have hated me, then, if i hadn't been kind and adorable and lovable in every way. i'm fifteen and it's dark out. i'm dressed in my dance clothes, almost bare naked in the winter; my dad and i have already had our argument about car temperature. i'm hot and sweating, having just exercised, but he's been sitting in the car for an hour and he's freezing. the overpass curves before us, lit only by the headlights of his blue jeep cherokee, and we're talking amiably. i don't know what leads to it, but he says something that night that lingers. 'and when and if you have a husband...' he pauses for a moment, and then says, gentler, 'or a wife, then—' and the rest is obscured by foggy memories but i remember thinking, 'thanks, daddy, but i'm straight.' but it stuck. i'm straight, right? what follows is hot showers and existential dread. i've since opened my eyes more to the community; i have queer friends. i know more. one of the things i know about is bisexuality. 'i'm straight,' i think, but then i think: 'am i?' it's mid-winter. it's freezing and i'm in the car on a way to an audition. everything is perfectly normal. my mom is beside me, the radio is playing soft music, and i'm texting my best friend. she's dating her first boyfriend and she needs advice: she wants to break up with him but she doesn't know how to say 'no' or 'i don't want this anymore'. she's afraid that it'll hurt him and his family, and so she's content to let this continue to hurt her. i have no experience with relationships but i give her advice anyway. the three little dots bounce on the screen and she says 'thank you for putting up with me. if you ever need help with anything, don't be afraid to ask.' and i stop dead. this is the worst timing possible; i'm in the car next to my mother, who does not know, on the way to an audition. i'm hopped up on anxiety: if this goes awry, my audition will be terrible. i will likely not manage a poker face in the small confines of the car. i'm not thinking about these things, though, as i text her back. 'actually there is something. i've been thinking about this a lot over the past year and i haven't told anyone but i think i might be bisexual.' there's a long pause, wherein i very nearly die. oh god, i think. she hates me. the three little dots are back. 'i'm back. sorry, i was walking into the house.' a pause. i'm trying not to cry, from anxiety and fear and relief and tension. 'oh. i'm so sorry i have literally the worst timing.' the little dots bounce like they're taunting me. 'ok first of all, know this changes nothing. i'm still your friend and i love you.' and suddenly it's real. but not...quite. two months later it's my birthday. i'm sixteen and i'm bundled with nerves and i sit my family down and i say, in many more words: 'i'm bisexual.' my parents tell me they love me. my dad says, 'i want you to know you can tell us anything.' my brother says nothing, but leans over to give me a hug. this is the first time i've said it aloud and it's the first time it's felt so real. i'm bisexual. i'm bisexual. now i think i may have been wrong. i may just be biromantic; i may be asexual or demisexual, i might even be aromantic, but that's not the point. the point is you would have hated the me from the beginning, who called you unnatural and thought it was a choice. the point is i grew. anyone can grow; it's easy, once you open your eyes. it's okay to make mistakes if you someday will learn from them. so do not hide people away; help them learn. help them grow. but most importantly: define yourself as who you are now: someone who has grown. someone who has learned. do not let yourself be defined by who you once were.
  2. Untitled(anxiety)

    the moon is like a glowing crescent. it was yellow earlier, but now it's just grayish whitish silver. you've been watching it for hours now. who knows what time it is? who cares? you roll over and stare at the wall of your bedroom that you painted blue last year but you wish it was less colorful. you don't get enough sleep and you know it. you've been seeing a therapist for almost a year now. you're getting better. slowly your hands shake and you're unsteady on your feet. you turn up your music and feel your heart match the beat. you close your eyes. all too soon, you open them, wish it wasn't time to get up and go to school. you know you could live like this. you also know you won't. you are a warrior author's note: sorry this is so fucking long, but i need to rant so. . . .
  3. Anxiety

    Anxiety I’m glad i’m in your life. So glad that society introduced you to me. Now that we’re together, there's no leaving. We are together forever. I am bonded to you. You can’t throw me away, i’m staying. Oh and, i’m clingy. Super clingy. I’ll always be right beside you, attached to you. I’ll follow you to the bathroom in the morning and, when you look in the mirror, i’ll tell you that they won’t like you. I’ll tell you that after this moment of seeing your face, you won’t be able to see it again. I’ll tell mirror to lie to you. To misshape your face and decieve you. Your nose isn’t proportional to your face. I’ll follow you back to your room, into your closet to search for clothes. I’ll tell you that the boy you like hates that color, that the other will make you look bad. I’ll also follow you as you change, forcing your eyes to scan the room and your head to spin around making sure no one sees you change. Then, i’ll follow you outside and on the bus. I’ll give you the fear of tripping and falling. The fear of what if this big yellow bus ends up flipping and you will never see your family again. I’ll give you that fear of the girl that bullies you. The one that will call you names. What if she fights you today on the bus? What if? What if? What if? I’ll explode your mind with these what ifs and improve your heartbeat because it wasn’t fast enough for me. I’m also going to steal your breath from your lungs, just because I want to. I’ll make it feel like your ribs have caved in and are stabbing you in the lungs. I’ll push those tears out of your eyes. You’re going to gasp for air for me, possibly hyperventilate. Yet, after that i’m tired. So I’ll leave you alone when your best friend gets on the bus. Just so you can finally have a laugh and I can have some rest. But then, you arrive to your school. Time to get off the bus, babygirl. Man I love calling you that. Makes me even more clingy. I’m up from my nap and even more hyper than a 4 year old. I’m so awake. I’m gonna make your brain roar, i’m gonna cause ruckus. My turn, babygirl. You walk past the red brick wall and now you’re in sight of people in the cafe. You’re nervous. What’re they going to think of me? Is my outfit not right? What about my hair? That’s me thinking that. I’m in control. We’re best friends? Right? How was that compliment? She said you look cute today. But, did she mean it? Of course she didn’t. Nobody ever says what they mean. I just love controlling your thoughts. It’s so great. WAIT!!! STOP!!! Too fast, you’re going to trip down the stairs and embarrass yourself. Gosh, clumsy girl. No wonder why nobody likes you anyways. Just keep walking. You finish down the stairs, you’re exposed to people. You knew that wall wouldn’t hide you forever. Are they staring at you? Yes. welcome to humiliation. The what-ifs are back. You’re shaking. Oh god yes. Your shaking brings me pleasure. I love it so much. Keep going on with your internal earthquake. You finally enter the room where all your ‘friends’ are. They’re only your friends because of your boyfriend. Sure. true friends. You see your ex. Oh my the thoughts I spark about him. What if he comes over here and grabs me again? What if he tries to talk to me? What if he is staring at me? What if he……? So many flowing through your head. Boy am I really alive now. Your phone just vibrated. It’s your ex, he wants you back and he is blowing up your phone again. He is begging for you back, he needs your attention, baby. He needs his babygirl back. Ohhhh there is that word I love to call you again. Babygirl, babygirl. I’ll just chant it in your head. He used to call you that. Didn’t he? You’re still in love with him. What’s that feeling on your mouth? Do you miss his kiss? Of course you do. But what if that’s all he wants from you? Of course it is. I can’t believe you going on and on about him up here. Remember the fights? The arguments? Yeah.. there we go. You’re not thinking good of him any more are you. Think about all of the times me and you got to lay in bed together and the salty taste of your tears. The position, I really hope your pillow couldn’t feel the pain of your grip or hear the sobs or feel and taste the tears. Remember him grabbing you? Remember that? Don’t go back to him. It’ll happen again. He’s still texting you. You’re reading them all. Heart almost beating out of your chest by the last one. Is he going to go off today? I wouldn’t risk it. You’re almost there now. One more thought to replay or think of. You think again of what he might do to you. You know he is stronger than you. You can’t go to class, he is going to be in there. But you can go to the bathroom. Then there is a mirror. You look in it and sob. You’re worthless. You’re nothing but a toy to guys. He only wanted you for his own pleasure. And when he didn’t get it? He treated you like crap and told you he loved you still. YOU ARE NOTHING!!! There it is, the tears all for me. Thank you, I so needed a bath. Keep them coming, i’m not finished yet. Another text is sent to you. But it’s not him. It’s your boyfriend now. Hey babygirl, are you ok? Ouuu, babygirl. Are you ok? No. you tell him no. He rushes to the bathrooms and shoots another text saying he is there. You go out to him and the first thing he does is gather all of the broken you in his arms and hold you together. He’s like the glue to put you back together. That don’t stop the tears from streaming down your face. Your heart is beating faster than a race horse’s. My favorite, it’s not fast enough for me still but I guess that this pace is going to have to work. Oh, and your breath. I’m stealing it. Using it for myself because I don’t think or care about you. I’ll take it all until you’re blue in the face. My breaths now. There is that pain you asked for when you wore that shirt today. He holds you closer, it makes you feel worthless. Because you’re this broken girl in this strong guys arms. But then you realize the good of it all when HE tells you that you look good today. HIS compliments mean everything to you. HIS touch, HIS arms, HIS hands. HE is EVERYTHING in this moment. HE wants you to get rid of me. Well, news flash, babygirl, i’m not going anywhere. Forever and ever. We are married in perfect unison. He’s on our lives now and we need him. I’m just going to make things hard for you. Since, you know we are together forever. He is trying to get in my way. Not happening. I’m just going to make you second guess and assume and think he is everything but what he truly is. Oh yeah, i’m gonna make you scared of those 3 little words too. That start with I and end with you. Don’t want him to say those do we, babygirl? Those 4 words that your dad used when you were little. Speaking of that thing, where is he? I force the thoughts of your father upon you. The what ifs of him showing at your house again high off of whatever drug he could get this time. The sound of his voice, the yelling and screaming. His towering height, and massive hands with the super strong grip. We shouldn’t bring him up though. But i’ll do it anyways. I’m going to make your life a living hell and all you can do is live with me. Why do I do that? Because my name is anxiety and i’m your new life partner. Your significant other that you wish wouldn’t be so significant. We are married together forever in unison and i’ll only be here through the worse. I love you, babygirl. Love, Anxiety
  4. Shelter From My Mind

    Love, Shelter me from my mind Hush the noises in my brain Keep me sane Calm my pounding heart with your Light kisses Help me breathe again Let me Think clearly Again
  5. untitled

    soundtrack: “whatever helps” (there are no saints, siobhan wilson) she asks about preventative measures and i swallow hard on the protestation that i am not the right person for this: i genuinely believe i am alive by luck at this point instead, i espouse the virtues of non-caffeinated tea and phone calls to friends who might somewhat understand or be willing to just share a moment’s silence soundtrack: “breathe (in the air)” (dark side of the moon, pink floyd) and when all else fails count together three in, five out , three in and five out and in and out soundtrack: “fake happy” (after laughter, paramore) and in these circumstances despite years of practical experience i feel horribly underqualified soundtrack: “wait ‘til the morning” (painting of a panic attack, frightened rabbit) i want to tell her things will get better but honesty is an immutable quality of our friendship and i can’t say that with any semblance of certainty i say it anyways
×