March 21, 2017
Someone on Twitter decided it was National Poetry Day; I can't find credible sources to support this. But, I thought I'd share a few Haiku poems anyway. I wrote a few when I was feeling anxious and was too afraid to ask a friend to listen and guide me out of the dark a few weeks back.
One of the major struggles I have with GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) is that asking for someone to help me with a situation or just a friend when I'm down is a battle, a constant fear. It takes time to just build the courage to even ask. It's not about the shame I have for admitting I have a problem; I ask for help on a daily basis at work when I'm in a rut or don't have an answer.
Trapped, lonely, and sad.
I just need you... or you, now--
but never say so.
For me, it's the idea that I think I'll be bothersome to a person I ask. That he/she will only feel obligated to help or to listen and feel bad that he/she doesn't want to. That I am just another distraction in his/her day. That my problems are more important than his/her problems.
Sometimes I'm able to tell myself otherwise, but more often than not, if it's a personal ordeal and I just need a friend, I think that others won't care and won't want to. People with GAD are worried about the now and the future; there are a lot of "what ifs" that come to play.
My what ifs in these situations are along the lines of what I said above: I'm not worthy of his/her attention. I may offend him/her. I may be depriving him/her of personal time and enjoyment. Why would any of these people want to spend time on me? Am I going to be the blame if he/she doesn't finish an assignment, misses a meeting, ignores a more meaningful person?
Instead of asking, there are many ways people with GAD cope in these situations, both negative and positive ways. One of my not-best-suited actions is skin-picking and eating late-night snacks. (No, I don't eat or collect my skin!). It's been a life-long issue, and I seem to get better with it, then fall back to my old habits. When I see others who have scars or a lot of scabs, I don't judge; Without asking, I won't know how or why he/she has them. Thankfully, I do have a few coping mechanisms I rely on, like listening to music, writing, jogging, coloring in adult pattern books, and talking to my dad (sometimes that's a negative, ha), among a few others.
Here are few I put together to hopefully describe what it's like to feel trapped with anxiety:
Pick skin. Think. Now again.
Just make a decision, girl.
Moments pass... repeat.
I do have friends, right?
Not her... No... Maybe?... She would.
... I'll ask tomorrow.
I shouldn't have asked.
I shouldn't bother. Alone:
I'm not worth it.
I did it again.
Crap. Crap. She hates me. For real.
I hate myself, too.
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