I don’t care what type of specific diagnosis you want to manifest as: Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Social Anxiety Disorder, Selective Mutism, Panic Disorder, Agoraphobia, and others. You are so creative in the ways you cripple our lives.
Of all the horrible things I have to say to you… I want to tell you I hate you most because you hurt my children. I want to go to sporting events, volunteer with groups at school, plan big birthday parties, and do all those things moms get to do. The joy on their faces warm my heart on the days I make those things happen. It takes everything I have to do it.
The tragedy is that you, Anxiety, hold me hostage and keep me from being who I want to be. You have killed the mom I wanted to be… still want to be. You must relish in the moments I hear my youngest say, “Why isn’t Mommy coming to church again?” And do you contort your beastly face into a demonic smile when you hear, “I wish you could come with us today. It’s not as much fun at the game when you’re not there.” You break their hearts. But they are still too young to understand… so you make it look like I am the one breaking their hearts. They don’t understand it’s not me. I take the blame for you and your evil ways! I HATE YOU!!! You break my baby’s hearts…
Anxiety, you will not win. Just as you have been relentless in my life, I, too, will persist beyond your ability to hold your grasp on my life. It’s MY LIFE. It is not yours. I will continue finding the right balance of medications, holistic approaches, and therapy to finally beat you some day. Then I’ll plan a big party for myself and invite everyone I know! Well… almost everyone. You, Anxiety, will not be invited. You will be burning in Hell where you belong.
Female, Age 37
Clinical Depression, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, PTSD