#iamnotcrazy

To figure out that in order to quiet my restless brain, I need to keep moving.

I know, it’s such an obvious thought. You’re thinking that this is not new, and I should just shut up about it.

But let me explain.

I have lived with anxiety for most of my life. When I was younger, I thought it was depression I was outrunning. My mother suffers from it, and my sisters, and I was convinced that all my problems were because of this familial affliction.

But I would tell others, “it’s not that bad. I can still function.” And this was an important distinction for me. Because my mother could not function. My mother stopped living and hid in her room and I was lost in her darkness. So, reader, I was always quick to add that my depression wasn’t “that bad.”

And, for a very long time, I believe this. I believed it meant I shouldn’t need help. I believed it meant that I really had nothing to complain about. If I did complain, I was being ungrateful or weak or selfish.

So, in the past year, discovering that I do not suffer from depression but anxiety has been an incredible release. It makes so much more sense. It explains why I cannot quiet my mind, even in sleep. It explains why I freeze when things scare me. It explains why I have pushed so many away, why I must always be moving for fear of going mad, why I worry constantly, and why, somehow, I “still function.” Because my anxiety makes me feel the constant need to prepare, to check and double check, to move and do and fill the empty spaces. Terrible things lurk in the silence between words, so I should always fill the space or else be consumed by my own demons.

And I have always known that being busy was my way of shoving the incessant voices down long enough to slow my heart and take a breath. I knew that even as a teen. I packed my days with so many things, so I could go home at night, exhausted, to sleep and wake up and do it all again. It was the only way I could cope.

My epiphany tonight, is that I can choose the things with which to occupy my time. I can decide the things that will tire me out, quell the voices, and slow my heart. I can choose. Yes, as a teen I chose to join chorus, choir, musicals, extra classes, sports...all of the things. But it wasn’t because it was good for me, it was because it kept me busy. I did what felt necessary. I enjoyed only so much, because it wasn’t ever quiet enough to silence the chaos that is my mind.

But now, I can choose.

Never have words felt so very powerful to me.

Tonight, I chose to exercise because it’s good for me, physically and emotionally. And for the last few hours I have felt GREAT. I am calm, happy, tired in a good, healthy way.

I chose.