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Is this what anxiety feels like?
I’ve never let myself feel — only function — through my anxiety.
I woke in a cold sweat, for the first time afraid, for the first time, ever last night. Don’t, pray, get any ideas that my life has been so mundane or simple, cozy or complete, that I’ve never had reason for anxiety or worry, stress or distress. Rather, sleep has always worked for me, not against me. The respite of messy hair pressed against pillow is an actual release, for me. I do not dream — sleep befalls me seconds after I turn off my lights. I do not wake until my music gently alarms me into daylight.
Magic gets lost in the mundane
Magic gets lost on Sunday, magic gets lost in
Magic gets lost in the world we live in
The covers are clammy, clinging to my naked midriff, my feet are cold, my face on fire. I am terrified. Legitimately terrified that something horrific, unknown, unseen, is about to take place. Oh! It could be my dad’s cancer diagnosis. Oh! It could be my mom’s cancer returning? Oh! It could be my brother’s custody hearing, whispers of criminality. Oh! It could be the Democratic debates, echoing in my subconscious as I sleep. Oh! It could be the overwhelmingalwayspresentweight of being a woman in 2020, a business owner, a mother, a lover, a human, a me.
I don’t suffer anxiety — though I’ve read enough books on the topic, picked…
