By: Natalie Katherina
To read more of her writing, visit her blog, On Catching Little Foxes.
When the blue starts to settle, I find myself going through lists and making mental notes of things I need to change.
But let’s be honest, when I’m swimming in deep water I’m not really thinking about change. I’m just trying to keep my head above the waves.
That’s just how it is sometimes, and eventually, the rays of sunlight hit me and the water around me sparkles and shimmers and I find hope again.
It’s always some kind of cycle and it’s always something to work through.
I don’t think I can really put into words what it feels like when the night comes to stay for a while…
So I make lists- a guide to this, the roles of that, whatever whatever.
Just something to get me by.
It’s almost like therapy but I don’t have to pay for it. It’s just something that works because eventually, I get a handle on things. And it’s not like this happens all the time- but when it does it feels like an eternity.
I’ll crawl out of this dingy hole eventually, the spiders will skitter away instead of making homes inside of my soul.
They always create the most intricate webs up and down my spine- and when anxiety hits they are crawling- up and down creating a sensation of a sick stomach and itchiness.
And then the light hits my soul and they scurry back into their dark corners- hissing and lunging trying to fend off the rays that blind them.
Because that’s what light always does- it blinds fear. Fear is spiders. Spiders are anxiety.
I never rely on self-medication, because I think it scares me too much. But I find solace in little things that get me through the day- that conversation that made me smile, that moment where everything felt okay, that day that just worked out… It’s always those kinds of things.
More lists.
Like this- when the blue hits-
1.
pause.breathe.think.remember.
you dont have to try so hard
blink.smile.breathe.
hi.
I am waiting for the trickle up the spine–for the water from the eyes–for the bend of the trees, the curl of the leaves, for the clouds to collapse and the sky to explode into chaos.
For all the structures to fly upward, for all that has been built to rip from its source.
And as everything heads towards space, towards silence and airlessness- would I be tempted by fictional isolation, to unknow my fears of the inevitable.
I want to go back to every beginning I ever had and forget there is such a thing as an ending. Because there was such a time.
And because today, today the path for it blinds me.
More spiders.
I suppose I should say things weren’t always this way, and things aren’t always this way.
It’s like scenes in a movie, a transition from frame to frame- and I suppose I just go with it.
That’s the most I can do- especially when the color of my thoughts matches the blue in my veins.
Everything balances out- and the blue hardly ever fades into black so I don’t have to worry about that at least.
But I think it’s important to know how someone feels when they are anxious- because it’s never irrational, it’s never something one can shake off or just get over.
It feels like our entire world is swallowed by hues of navy and pulsing lights of red and yellow and we can’t get a grip on the present moment.
I know that when I get that tight feeling in my chest or the pit in my stomach- it’s not “nothing” because it’s something and as soon as my heart rate increases and my breaths come in shallow bursts- I realize how real it is- and it’s not because I’m insecure or unsure- all I know is at that present time I’m scared as hell.
And nothing makes sense.
Spiders. Always spiders.
And then I make lists up in my head and my breathing doesn’t calm down, because one list connects to another and another and another and and and and and all of a sudden I’m thinking about all the things I need to change about myself because I know that someone isn’t happy with me, or I think I’m annoying someone else.
It all collides and escalates and turns into a hurricane of crawling spiders.
And the itchy pit of my stomach gets worse and there is heat pulsing from somewhere and my lungs just begin to collapse.
And it’s not like anything is wrong but I over think things and think them again and chew on them and spit them out and think about them some more and there’s always some thought in the back of my head that’s nagging for my attention and suddenly it’s like it surfaces and I’m paralyzed with anxiety because the spiders start crawling.
BUT
I think I just wanted you to know that despite these things I am okay and there’s nothing wrong with me.
I feel like no one wants to talk about the things that cripple them.
Well here’s mine. I am crippled by anxious thoughts. To the point of the inability to breathe- and all I can do is curl onto the floor and wait it out. But it’s not because of something I’m not doing right or anything like that.
It’s not something I can snap out of- there are things I have found that can calm me or distract me that I have relied on- and please don’t tell me I don’t have enough faith because of my anxiety.
Because I have absolute faith in a God bigger than anxiety.
But there are times where the spiders start and they don’t stop- and that’s just something that happens.
It’s not often- but it happens. And it’s not something I control or have the ability to switch off.
Friend, if you love someone who is plagued with anxious thoughts, it isn’t something that is yours to fix- but it is yours to love them through.
And sometimes the thing we need most is a strong arm around our shoulder- steady breathing, and a pulsing heart to listen to.
No words- just light and silence to chase away the spiders.
Because eventually the blue fades and the heat subsides and the breathing quiets and the spiders retreat back into their corners-
and the world doesn’t seem so daunting anymore.