For as long as I remember, I make a blog, put my story forward and erase it in three months. My thoughts race in my banged up head at 100 mph, enough to cause my heart to beat faster, my eyes to blur, my feet to give way, and my muscles almost dead. I was drowning in the tornado of my mind as long as I was alive. I have a very real fear of my mind overwhelming me as I slowly turn into an empty shell, as it leeches my life out one breath at a time. For the uninitiated, this is what living with major depression and anxiety issues feels like. I’m a high-functioning depressive. I ball up my anxiety, my despair, and carry it in my heart, willing my mind to do a portion of work, just enough to survive, just enough to keep my job, just enough to seem normal most days.
I am a person. I deserve to live. But my mind has only one aim. To overpower me, to make me take my own life, to drown me, to drag me to a limbo. This is my effort to hang onto life, taking each second at a time, to remember to breathe, to push myself off of the bed in the morning, to unload the hundred and ten thoughts assaulting me 24×7.