Hannah Holmes Journals

I feel my anxiety in my stomach. It churns; it burns. It is so intense. Sometimes, I feel it in my forehead too, and my neck. I clench my thighs, lower back, and abdomen. But primarily my stomach. Burning, churning, whirlpooling, causing or at least contributing to my acid reflux.

I feel like I am spinning, or like I have fallen off a tall building, like I have lost all control. The anxiety says: Do this, do that - you must act, or you will surely die. But instead, I freeze. I sit still, the world spinning on as I am anchored to one spot. I need to do the things. I want to the things, so that the more terrible things won't happen. But my body won't move. My brain races with thoughts of worst-case scenarios, but my body stays still. Why?

I was raised to believe that anxiety is a lack of faith in God. To be anxious is to be in sin. But that's okay, dear sinner, because God forgives you. So just stop being anxious, okay?

None of these beliefs have any positive effect on anxiety whatsoever. In fact, these beliefs can make anxiety worse because now, not only are you anxious, but you are also failing morally. You are committing the sin of anxiety, which creates more anxiety, and now you are on a neverending ride, a loop of terror. If you were a better person, you would trust God. Jesus told you not to worry, after all. Chill out, you little piece of shit.

I have not clung to the religion of my youth, for the most part I have let it go. Trying to be a good Christian did not make me a better person, but oddly enough, letting go of Christianity did. I became more empathetic, more understanding of human complexity. More willing to see the gray areas. My anxiety is not gone; oh no, I still have anxiety.

Leaving the worldview in which you were raised and on which the entire foundation of your life has been built is anxiety-inducing in its own right. But looking back, I don't think I ever truly believed. I forced myself to believe that I believed because I had no other options, except for the firey furnace.

These days, I like to think that the universe is chaotic and nonsensical and that we do not bring our troubles upon ourselves. I find comfort in that. I am not anxious because of choice or moral failing; I am anxious due to the combination of my unique brain chemistry and my experiences. I could not have changed anything that led me to this point.

However, I can do what I can, right now, within the limitations of my unique situation, to help myself. So I go to talk therapy. I take Prozac and Welburtrin. Sometimes, I meditate or practice yoga. I practice deep diaphragmatic breathing. If I am incredibly anxious, I put an ice cube on my face to bring my brain back to the present moment.

Once, I put an ice cube on my face and immediately began to sob. Sometimes, the present is unpleasant, but we must be there nonetheless. Sometimes, you need to sob.

I am highly sensitive and deeply internal. It is hard to be this way, but I am also creative, kind, and sometimes pretty funny, if I do say so myself. 

I want to be me; but I'd like to be a less anxious version of me.

So, I will keep going to therapy. I'll keep taking my Prozac and Welbutrin. I'll keep breathing and yoga-ing and putting ice cubes on my face.

Life is short and long all at the same time, and I have the time I need to become the person I want to be.