I have a lot going on in my head recently. No, not recently, it's been going on for a while-- a long while now. Sometimes it's easy to ignore; sometimes the train in my head slows down and lets me breathe for a while; but sometimes, most times, the train is loud, unrelenting, and terribly unforgiving.
I worry. I worry about small things. I worry about things that matter so much I shouldn't even bother worrying about them. But alas, here we are-- and I'm spinning around in circles again.
So I have to make a list in my head, again. I make lists all the time, really-- lists that help me remember, lists that remind me to breathe, lists that remind me there are good things to be grateful for. God knows, I forget often. I forget to breathe. I forget to stop. I'm on a one way collision with my consciousness.
Yesterday I couldn't breathe. I had to stop. I wanted to stop. I wanted the whirring to cease. I wanted a lot of things-- the bathroom to be clean, the guinea pigs to stop burriyng under the blankets, the food to make itself, the bed to be made, rent to be paid, grades placed, medicine bought, bills to disappear. I wanted to disappear. I felt crushed underneath the weight of it all. Suddenly, I was bombarded with all the questions I shoved into boxes and threw hastily into the back of my mind. Was I doing enough? Was I doing too much? What if I needed help? Should I ask for help? Should I be so quiet, should I talk more, am I being diligent enough, am I being irresponsible? And what if I was all of these things? What if it was everything?
I'm still simmering. I can't say the feeling has gone away-- yet anyway. There's still something about all this that is slightly discomforting. But I am trying.
Thing is, as much as I want to be understood, I often don't understand myself. My train of thought runs past me long before I have a chance to catch a glimpse of the issues...
I feel exhausted. My psoriasis has been acting up again.
See, I am quite literally falling to pieces. My body is falling. Every nick and scratch becomes a bruise both mentally and physically. My body is at constant war with itself, and by consequence, so is my mind. They are not mutually exclusive.
I've read countless articles constantly describing psoriasis sufferers having a greater risk of anxiety and depression. Harvard even published an article called the "Heartbreak of Psoriasis" where they state "People with psoriasis also had significantly more “mental distress” and were about 1.5 times more likely to report mild to severe depression than those without the disease." So if everything is pointing to how I'm feeling, you can imagine why it's so hard to overcome.
But I don't want to be a statistic. And life, quite frankly, is so much better lived if I focus on the positives rather than the constantly nagging negatives. I need to be intentional. So here's a start. Here's the truth.
I'm not okay. I'm exhausted. I often prefer not to feel. I spend too much time worrying about what I'll look like if things get worse. I cry sometimes when I'm alone. Sometimes I don't know why I cry, it just happens.
Still, there are other truths:
I have a husband who loves me more than I can fathom. I have a home. I have a car. I have food. I have the ability to work. I am alive. I can breathe. I enjoy time alone. I enjoy time in the company of family. I must build this protective barrier of positivity lest I fall back into distress. I must be purposeful.
This is my start.
Again.
For the millionth time.
And even if I have to start over again and again. I think, at least for now I believe that hope is so much better than this worry...
