Anxiety.

She is a raging bitch.

She is controlling and manipulative.

She whispers the worst case scenario in my ear.

She doesn’t give a damn if I have plans to go out. She’ll swoop in out of nowhere and try to lock me in my room.

She has pulled me out of class, and a final exam, for absolutely no reason.

When my boyfriend broke up with me, she convinced me it was because I wasn’t worthy of love.

When I applied to job after job after job, she informed me I would never be good enough for them.

When I stand with a crowd of people, she holds a hand over my mouth and tells me not to speak because I’m annoying. And when I do speak, she yells at me for it.

She zaps me and I’m paralyzed.

She’s a constant companion and I often have to check with her before I make plans or decisions.

One of the first times I met her, she followed me down to the lake, my peaceful spot. She sat with me as I watched the waves gently crash on the rocks, birds flying above us. She cast a dark shadow over me and whispered, “what if you never get to see this view again? How bad can that really be?” That was when I knew our relationship was toxic. She was here to ruin my life, and everything that was good in it. She convinced me she was way more powerful than I was, and that night, she pinned me down to my bed, beating me to the point of tears. I was terrified. My mom had to push her away just so I could get up to take a shower.

She held me captive for way too long. I was offered an internship with Canon that summer, and she convinced me I just couldn’t handle it. The day I got the phone call I was so worn, just from putting all of my energy into fighting her. And so I turned it down. Because of her.

I thought her visit would be short, but she ended up staying with me that entire summer. She followed me everywhere — to the beach, to Port, to the grocery store, to my painting classes. Twice a week I had to drive an hour just to take her to therapy, where I would confront her about all she was doing to me. She even locked me in the house for two weeks, and when I tried to leave she grabbed my arm and pulled me right back.

I started taking Lexapro so she would leave me alone, and even so she tried to convince me I was weak for resorting to medication.

She took everything away from me that I loved. She became my life. And I truly did not feel like that was a life worth living.

That summer was hell because of her. She didn’t want me to leave her to go back to school — she even tried telling me I couldn’t handle it. 

But I did, and that’s when I started learning to make peace with her.

Not by letting her win, and not by knocking her dead. Because I know I can’t kill her. 

Instead I'd gather as much strength as I could hold onto, take a deep breath, kindly ask her to step off to the side, and do what I needed to do.

It turns out that little bit of strength was tremendous.

Going back to school that fall semester was one of the hardest things I ever did. I had to introduce her to my routine, my brand new house, my friends, the things I loved. I feared that she would ruin at least one of those things for me. But I loved those things too much to let her change anything.

She’s like that awful sister that you want to never see or speak to again, but you can’t because she’s your sister (I’m allowed to say that because I’ve never had a sister). You just have to learn how to live with her.

I couldn’t look her in the eyes before. But now I can. In fact I’ve even learned to accept her as my friend. On some days I greet her in the morning, give her a wave, and leave her home all day. And some days she isn’t even there when I return. Sometimes she’ll take a long vacation, for days, weeks, even months at a time. Occasionally we’ll make conversation and laugh about the past.

Which is why I haven’t, and won’t ever, let her win.

She’s an unwanted companion, but by no means a part of me.

Those days without her are breathtakingly beautiful. I never had days like that before she came into my life. Today, I sit at that same spot by the lake and think, I am so thankful I am still here. I am so glad I didn’t even consider listening to her.

She has forced me to fight and that fight has given me more strength than I could have ever imagined. She has changed my life. She has transformed me into the strong-willed woman I am today. Just two years ago I couldn't leave my house without fearing for my life. Now I've moved to a new city where I knew zero people, worked multiple jobs and internships, and am about to graduate from college.

So thank you, Anxiety. Thank you for making me fight. Thank you for giving me that push to do everything to the best of my ability. Thank you for helping me to see how beautiful life really is. Thank you for keeping me on my toes and working hard. Thank you for giving me this experience so that I may be a light of hope for others. Thank you for showing me that I can win any battle.

Especially this one.