Yo no creo en un Dios, pero si Dios quisiera castigarme, mis miedos serían un método muy efectivo.
I thought I was smart. I thought I was intelligent enough - me, a worthless teenager- to outwit an undiagnosed anxiety disorder. I thought reason would be therapeutic and rationality would be medicinal. I thought I was smart enough to trick myself into being a normal person.
But I am so insignificant. And this, above any standardized test or all that ridiculous money my college education is worth, proves that I am a stupid, foolish woman. I need help and I have needed help my whole life.
I know my fears are stupid, but that does not mean they don't paralyze me. They do so completely irrationally, and I'm aware of that, but that only adds frustration. It does not subtract fear.
And here I am, eighteen years old, having what people with mental illnesses seem to call "one of my bad days" and I realized that my "bad days" have just become "days."
And this only happen because I was too stupid, too much of a pompous little shit with my GPA and my pseudo-philosophy and imagined insight into the human soul. That weird I've-got-the-world-figured-out attitude that every kid gets in high school when they get fancy new words like "superfluous" and cars and a sliver of independence was what made me think I was apparently the exception to the entire world, I guess.
And instead of making life bearable for myself, I continued to pride myself on the obstinance I had cleverly mislabeled as "self-reliance" until I became the crumbled mess I am today, younger and more scared and more clueless than I've ever been, very close to the edge of emotional stability.
Everything about this was very preventable. Even though I've spent over a decade with this problem, the months that are to come frighten me more than anything ever has, mostly because I'm afraid of the person this anxiety is turning me into.
I just want to be a strong person again. I just want to be brave. I just want my happiness to be pure.
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