It was the longest period of time I have gone without a psychologist appointment since I first began treatment three and a half years ago. And I was getting weird, real weird.
I allowed a seed of anxiety to grow and take roots in other parts of my psyche. It is kind of like when a tree brings water up through its roots to nurture itself, only in a much more fucked up and non-poetic kind of way.
I still don’t like speaking of it, of this fear, I don’t want people to become intrusive about me. I don’t want the worry of people who don’t understand because they’ve never felt this way.
As they walked away the baby girl watched me and smiled and then started giggling with joy. As if our encounter had tickled her as much as it did me.
Lying so often feels like the easy way out, but I’ve been learning the hard way that honesty is the only way to face demons and beat them. To learn from the shit in life and to handle the pain of the world, to see the good things and not just the bad.
If you are hopeless, want to give up, or are contemplating suicide. Please take a minute to read this and call someone. You aren’t alone. You don’t have to go through this feeling alone. You are stronger than you know and more incredible than you believe.
From a young age, I learned that writing about my pain was like talking to a friend. My journal has traveled as far and wide as I have.
My anxiety was growing and I did not know what could relieve it. I visited Posada Itaca, an oasis of a farm only an hour and a half from Buenos Aires.