Between The Squiggles

I don’t know what to say. It feels impossible to talk about anxiety or depression with full honesty without sounding like you’re crying out for help. It’s also hard to explain how certain life events – ones that are NOT as horrific as rape or surviving a war – can still leave you with a traumatic imprint.

I am not a rape survivor. Thankfully, I have never had to live through war either. But there were certain events in the past that hurt me in ways that I now live with crippling anxiety. Not depression anymore, but anxiety so severe that under certain circumstances it can leave me almost bed-ridden.

The first sign of my anxiety showing up in my body is a sudden drop in room temperature – I start feeling freezing cold. Next, my neck begins to ache. Then my breathing turns shallow. After that, my heart races. And finally – the worst of all – a knot forms in my stomach, so tight and heavy it feels like the anchor of a massive ship.

Have you ever seen a ship move while it’s anchored? Exactly.

Some days, all I can afford to do is drag myself from one corner of the house to the other. Screeching the anchor across the ground behind me