Sometimes when I write, it is as easy as breathing. Other times, it’s like gasping for air. Right now is very much one of those out of air moments. The last thing I ever want to do is talk in circles. I always want my blogs to be honest, and about different aspects of mental health. Because of my recent relapse into depression and anxiety, I’d say finding things to write about is more difficult. Which is ironic because I write a blog about mental illness. It’s just that when I’m in that current shadow of mental illness I find myself in a different part of my mind. One that lacks motivation, and emotions in general. Yes, I also over-feel all of the negative emotions, but I’m still stuck. I guess I just lose inspiration when I feel this way.
In my life I’ve found a lot of comfort in words. More specially, in writing poetry. It’s been an outlet that allows me to write how I feel, but in an indirect way. This works for me because I’ve always found trouble in being direct about how I’m feeling. Like I said my writing has been lacking due to my current state of mind, but I’ll still randomly spill out a poem when I find that rhythm of muse.
I’ve been in my head a lot these days. That may sound weird because technically I’m always in my own head, but by this I mean swimming in my thoughts. Usually when I’m in my head it’s a lot of tearing myself down, or just pinpointing different things about myself or the people around me. I over-analyze. I’ve noticed how much more sensitive I am and how differently I react to things. I think this is due to my mental illness, but I also think it’s a big part of my personality. It’s a cherished trait when it comes to my writing, because when I feel, I feel. And feeling is what fuels writing. But, as I’m learning, it isn’t the most ideal trait when it comes to day-to-day living.
I’ve been struggling with getting past things. With overthinking. It’s really crippling, actually. My sensitivity to things is quickly becoming a thief. It’s stealing my ability to move forward. It’s standing in the way of me and happiness. Anxiety is filling my lungs faster and faster each day. It’s making it difficult to not shut people out. And I’m afraid that I’m doing exactly that. I can’t explain it entirely. But I wrote something that for me says a lot. Maybe to you it will read as something else, but that’s why I love writing.
My heart is full, but it’s still light as a feather.
My eyes are weary, but I still can see the stars.
My throat is closed, but I can still say your name.
That’s the anxiety of thinking one thing, but knowing I feel another thing. A thing much deeper and stronger than the anxiety. And I need to remind myself that. That my real feelings are valid, and the stuff my anxiety and depression tells me isn’t.
So, this was another post that’s been a bit dry. I’ll give you an update though, I’m currently about to start a more serious treatment for my mental illness. Which means I’m going to get back on track, and back to being myself again. It’s always going to take time. But I’ve gotten the support and help I need, and I’ll be starting two days a week for eight weeks. All I can hope for by sharing this is that if you’re reading this, and you’re suffering in silence, maybe I can help inspire you to reach out for help. If you can’t voice it, write it.
About Emma Holden
18, tea enthusiast, animal lover, word writer, and wants to change the stigma on mental health one blog post at a time.