landonmorley
08-26-2011, 04:56 PM
Something happened today and I became really inspired and had to write about it:
Victory on the Battlefield
I’ve personified my anxiety. He is an extension of me and therefore looks like me. His details change though; sometimes he looks like a dark knight (Death Knight for those of you who play World of Warcraft) version of me, other times he looks like a shadow-blue, smoky me with red eyes. I’m sure there will be even more depictions in the future – maybe he’ll be a war general or something.
Why is this? To what purpose does it serve? Well the anxiety certainly seems purposeless in the first place to any onlooker. I would agree had I not been previously a victim of it. But it helps. It helps me to see my status in the “battlefield.” The two of us fight – sometimes with swords, sometimes with fists, but always to the same means. When the chemicals in my brain that trigger the anxiety and the panic go up, my anti-me is winning the fight. When they subside, I win. I find it easier to deal with one personified version of anxiety than a huge cloud of smoke in unfamiliar space I’m stuck in. It’s my mind; I get to choose home-field advantage.
He is my enemy; my greatest foe. His mission is solely to destroy my mind.
If he is an extension of me, then that implies I’m trying to destroy myself. I can guess a few reasons why; guilt, post-traumatic stress, shame, closing chapters of my life, and starting new ones. I’ve been dealt a large hand of those these days, so my enemy is well-armed.
Logic can sometimes be my friend on the battlefield. Sometimes just knowing that I don’t need to feel this way - that my enemy is unequipped with the proper weaponry - is enough to win the battle. Other times logic won’t be enough.
I talked to my grandma today, and that’s the whole reason I’m typing this. I spoke to my father last night and expressed my worry about this condition. He told me his mother has the same thing, and maybe it skipped a generation. He said I should talk to her and see what she had to say. So this afternoon I did just that. This may have been the best decision of my life.
She told me that she has experienced the same thing – the sudden oncoming of anxiety, the fear that triggers more fear, and the emotion that no one can fully describe but those with it can understand what we mean. We talked about the help she sought with medication and that it was very effective. But that wasn’t the most important part.
The most important part to me was the fact that she knew exactly what I meant. She completely understood the indescribable feeling, and I was not alone. We laughed over the commonality we shared. We laughed.
I laughed at my enemy. And if he had a tank on the battlefield, I have nuclear bomb.
Victory on the Battlefield
I’ve personified my anxiety. He is an extension of me and therefore looks like me. His details change though; sometimes he looks like a dark knight (Death Knight for those of you who play World of Warcraft) version of me, other times he looks like a shadow-blue, smoky me with red eyes. I’m sure there will be even more depictions in the future – maybe he’ll be a war general or something.
Why is this? To what purpose does it serve? Well the anxiety certainly seems purposeless in the first place to any onlooker. I would agree had I not been previously a victim of it. But it helps. It helps me to see my status in the “battlefield.” The two of us fight – sometimes with swords, sometimes with fists, but always to the same means. When the chemicals in my brain that trigger the anxiety and the panic go up, my anti-me is winning the fight. When they subside, I win. I find it easier to deal with one personified version of anxiety than a huge cloud of smoke in unfamiliar space I’m stuck in. It’s my mind; I get to choose home-field advantage.
He is my enemy; my greatest foe. His mission is solely to destroy my mind.
If he is an extension of me, then that implies I’m trying to destroy myself. I can guess a few reasons why; guilt, post-traumatic stress, shame, closing chapters of my life, and starting new ones. I’ve been dealt a large hand of those these days, so my enemy is well-armed.
Logic can sometimes be my friend on the battlefield. Sometimes just knowing that I don’t need to feel this way - that my enemy is unequipped with the proper weaponry - is enough to win the battle. Other times logic won’t be enough.
I talked to my grandma today, and that’s the whole reason I’m typing this. I spoke to my father last night and expressed my worry about this condition. He told me his mother has the same thing, and maybe it skipped a generation. He said I should talk to her and see what she had to say. So this afternoon I did just that. This may have been the best decision of my life.
She told me that she has experienced the same thing – the sudden oncoming of anxiety, the fear that triggers more fear, and the emotion that no one can fully describe but those with it can understand what we mean. We talked about the help she sought with medication and that it was very effective. But that wasn’t the most important part.
The most important part to me was the fact that she knew exactly what I meant. She completely understood the indescribable feeling, and I was not alone. We laughed over the commonality we shared. We laughed.
I laughed at my enemy. And if he had a tank on the battlefield, I have nuclear bomb.