• Hools

A Little Bit of Word Vomit

I feel it coming, I mean I know it's coming, right, because it always does. But what if I'm okay now? What if this time it doesn't come... Then am I cured?




Who am I kidding, it'll come. It'll hit me like a thousand tonnes and knock me on my bed as the tears soak into my mattress... though I have a mattress cover so they won't so much as soak, more just leave a puddle. And yet, the idea that it might not come, which should be a blessing, a pleasant gift, hope for being healthy, scares the shit out of me. It's part of me, it's always been part of me. Who am I without it? I am, of course, talking abut my anxiety.


All the signs are there. I feel this need to reconnect with people. I overly compliment people because I want them to know they're special before I get into a place where I can't tell them they're special in the thick of it, and I always want the people I love to feel special. IF I DON'T TELL THEM, HOW WILL THEY KNOW?! I can feel myself preparing like a bear getting ready to hibernate. I'm over analyzing my schedule, trying to keep busy, while also feeling like all the work is going to suffocate me if I don't get it all done. I have my art around me, my books near me, my pens at the ready. So what if it doesn't come.


My anxiety has been a part of me before I even knew how to describe it. I can see signs of my depression looking back to the first year I had facebook. My 'memory' flashbacks from 2009, all I posted was: 'feels so alone like I could disappear forever and no one would know'. It's amazing I didn't know I was sad. Brainwashed... brain-- I'm not going to get into it because it may set me off. I'm on a very thin tightrope (though I don't know a tightrope that isn't thin... then it would just be a bridge, I guess). I had a candid conversation this weekend during the--- that doesn't matter... but a family friend told me 'I could see how anxious it (don't worry about it) made you when you were just two feet tall'. It's who I am.


When I lost something, keys, my purse, my homework, I would have a panic attack. Not a big one, not one that you would necessarily define as a panic attack, but I remember the panic I felt. The feeling that if I didn't find this one thing then that was it for me, I was no longer good. And if I wasn't good that meant---


(I'm sorry, I'm generally very honest about, well everything. But there's an elephant in this blog post that I've been living with, preparing for, over the last few months, and I did nothing about it. I just sat, and pretended it was fine, and had monotone conversation that led no where. And I just wish I was better than that. I wish... Anyway, this isn't the place to get into it. I have therapy tomorrow)


If I no longer have anxiety then... who am I, really? And is that something that you just all of a sudden cure? Is that possible, because I never thought it was. How can I relate to the people I care about when I can't be like 'oh yeah happened to me last week'. I feel like a stranger in a conversation. Or how can I engage in a conversation about mental health when I'm fine. This is absurd. I'm holding onto the experience of pain that I'm hoping to experience again, while when I'm in it, I feel like I can't breathe, and want to never feel like that again. Is that trauma? Is that like when you get released from jail, but just wanna go back? Stockholme syndrome? Is my anxiety Stockholme syndrome.... What the actual fuck. I guess any sane person wouldn't think that way so in reality I'm not completely mentally healthy.


I want to be able to believe that if my anxiety was gone-- which I still don't believe, wait two days and read the newest blog post, I'm sure I'll be like 'remember when she thought she was fine? What a trash goblin past Holly is'-- I would still be able to pull from my experience and write about it, and help change the world with their perspective on the issue. But THEN I start experiencing imposter syndrome. Like, well I wasn't bad enough, I was able to get out of it, so I shouldn't be allowed to recall my experiences when people out there have it worse.


I guess this blog is about my Poly-world. So, I should say, that being healthy, that absurd concept, makes me feel like I'll have to start accepting love. Now there's nothing stopping people from loving me, because I have all these amazing qualities AND I'm mentally stable... what?! (I should say that I DO NOT think that people who aren't mentally stable aren't able to be loved, that is NOT it. I love so so many people who are dealing with shit. It's mostly my OWN insecurity about ME being stable...) So really, it's my brain being like 'oh no no no, you can't not have anxiety, because then when people don't like you you have to blame the fact that you're actually just a shitty human', though that voice SOUNDS a lot like anxiety. YOU FOOL!


I just... want to be able to love the person that I am, outside of the person that my brain makes me think I am... while also not feeling tied to that second person... Without my anxiety, I feel like I have no voice. With my anxiety I feel like I'm suffocating. IT'S A PICKLE (and it's not dill, because I like those kind).

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About Me

I'm Holly, aka Hools, and I've been working on art that pushes past the every day social norms. Recently really coming into my identity as a Poly, Pan, Ace.

 

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