Not Always

I wasn't always like this.

I didn't think of myself as vulnerable, sensitive or introverted. The word 'trigger' meant something that was on a gun and therapy was something crazy people did in the movies. I wasn't susceptible to being hurt or dependent on others to feel self awareness.

I didn't wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, or just because. I didn't eat candy for breakfast and nothing for dinner. I didn't watch the television on low volume, or read in soft light, or avoid perfumes and scented candles. I didn't feel so tired after running errands. I didn't yell at strangers from the safety of my car or drive with my knuckles white on the wheel. 

I didn't hope for bad weather so I could have an excuse to stay in. I didn't have to force myself to be around people, to smile and laugh. I didn't feel lonely when I was surrounded by friends. I didn't think I was being judged or laughed at when my back was turned.

I didn't stumble over my words or ask the same questions over and over because I forgot what the answers were. I didn't reread sentences in books to avoid losing the plot. I didn't hold back my opinions from fear of being judged. I didn't wince when voices got loud.

I didn't monitor what I watched on television, or read or talked about. I didn't drink decaf. I didn't avoid mirrors. I didn't frown so much. Or cry. 

I wasn't always like this.  But this is what anxiety does. This is what happens when depression grasps it's hand and leads it into a twisted emotional dance.

Every day I wake up and tell myself I'm going to be ok. I tell myself that the clouds inside will break and hope will flood back in.

It won't always be like this, that's what they say. You're going through something, that's all. You have to go through it to get out of it. It takes time, they say. And I nod. I use the tools I've been given. I say that I understand. And I try to remember, I wasn't always like this.