Living with anxiety
In my dream, the truck is always out of control. The brakes are either rock hard and no amount of my weight applied to the pedal will move it, or the pedal presses to the floor and the truck shows no sign of slowing. I mash and stump with all my might but the truck rarely stops. I fly through intersections, speed through parking lots and do my best to avoid causing too much destruction – taking the chance of risking my life before considering risking any other.
In reality, life feels out of control again. I’ve come to ride an unsteady wave of anxiety, rising and falling just as easily as the tide rolls in and out. I crash into the shore, hoping my ride is over, only the sea pulls me back again and I take another ride into the shore. I’m battered by the tumble and losing my will to fight the tide – falling into the motion and taking my beating. The once unnatural cycle has entered a phase that resembles an unstable routine of rises and falls.
Part of me wishes there was a life guard on duty, someone who could just run out and save me but signs plaster the beach ‘swim at your own risk’. I ignored those and dove into the depths because I knew how to swim but didn’t realize how strong the pull of the current was or how big the waves would get. Before long I become tired and ache as I fight to stay above water.
It’s all left me to envy the surfer, who rides the waves and still comes out standing at the end of the day. I envy the cautious souls who threw on a life vest, even when they didn’t need it because they knew they may become tired or face a situation beyond their control. How could any one not envy them for being far more prepared than ones self, when they entered the water?