I've been up since 12 am Cincinnatti time. I went to bed at 10:30. I've slept 90 minutes in a bed in the last 23 hours and roughly 43 minutes propped in various poses of uncomfortable aboard sardine can airplanes. I've travelled 1,946.9 miles and changed two time zones. And yet it followed me here.
I can't escape it. I can't rationalize it. I can't outsmart it. I can't control it when I grasp and cling to controlling anything, everything. It is the one thing that makes me feel weak. Powerless. Shivering.
I lay in the dark box that I shelled out $86 for and I gasp. I panic. It's too dark. Flick, the iridescent light so rudely barges in, even though I asked it to enter. I'm temporarily blinded, my eyes adjust. My heart rate, my panic, my fear does not. It's too bright in here now. I can't get comfortable. I've been tossing and turning for hours, pleading for sleep to wash over me, to release me from...this. I beg and I plead and I barter, I crave sleep as exhaustion takes over my limbs, my eyes, my soul and yet it still followed me here. And it won't let me sleep. It won't let me rest, recover, repeat.
Distraction! They all say distraction works. I'm alone in this commercial box with a bed in it. I turn on the mindless electronic device. Yelling, wars, trivial useless gossip about sensationalized idols jump into my room. They are not welcome here, they do not distract or discourage my silent stalker. For the stalker knows no bounds and feeds upon my mind trying to dismiss it. It feeds on me as though I am weak; it almost always saunters away satiated, more full than the feeding before not giving a damn about the carnage left behind. It leaves my skin crawling, my heart racing and my once intelligent mind unable to form comprehensive sentences that can begin to describe its devouring.
I didn't invite it on my trip. I didn't ask for it to be in my home. I can't get rid of it. I grasp at the air bubbles as they float towards the surface, envious of their freedom as they encounter the cold fresh air above. For this ocean of anxiety that I am sitting under, cross legged on the dark, sandy bottom, is suffocating.
It's suffocating when I already can't breathe.
I didn't invite anxiety into my life yet I can't make it leave.