Waking Up To Find Myself Crying

A contemplation of times that recognise isolation and sorrow.

Photo by Victorien Ameline on Unsplash

There’s a form of anxiety one deals with when they need help from someone, but can’t. This unnerving, shaking feeling when somebody allows to give us a hand and we can’t but deny the offer. Why do I always do this? is something I have been asking myself lately.

Times in the pandemic, have ushered a newer wave of uncertainty. One that I didn’t expect. I stopped expecting things, from people or moreover my life. I had decided to myself that I won’t expect things from now on. Yet, here I am again walking on this thin precipice of doubt and anxiety.

Do you feel the same?

Anxiety, something I have known my whole life. A thin reverberating feeling that tends to cripple my heart. I can sense it in my breathing, as it swoops my senses useless with its malignant presence.

I hate it, why does it occur when I least expect it?

I was talking to someone the other day. In between the conversation, I had a subtle anxiety attack. I felt helpless, but I kept my composure. This feeling of being helpless even when I felt in control. It felt like anxiety was a presence beyond my control, staring right at me in the centre of my core.

I couldn’t but watch as my smile slowly turned into a frown. It could be seen on my face, and my acquaintance pointed out, what had happened just now. To which I replied, “nothing happened, nothing at all.” In an attempt to diffuse this situation of getting caught anxious. I tried to minimize my emotional exuberance.

Lately, I am feeling ample moments of depression. Ever since I got diagnosed with severe symptoms of both anxiety and depression. I have been feeling these emotions way too often. The sudden depressing moments in the silent nights, as the tears that drop slowly from my eyes. The uncontrollable grief that is just beaming through my teary eyes.

I feel it all, at a pause where I ponder “why is this happening?”

I know of it, yet I pretend to not know why it is happening? Perhaps I want a different answer than what I know right now. I believe I want an answer that instils the strength to believe that I can get through this. Yet I want someone here close to my heart, someone who holds me tightly. Even though no one will come, and I am slowly drowning in my despair.

Perhaps, I allow myself to feel this way. In a time, where I don’t have anyone to hold. I let my grief embrace me, perhaps I am trying to find the peace in between my sadness. Perhaps I am trying to believe that there is hope in my despair.

At a time, in the dark nights where I abruptly wake up, finding tears in my eyes. Where no one is by my side — I feel this shiver down my spine. The empty feeling that sends a signal to my brain. The loneliness my heart is being filled with in isolation. It is all but inevitable, as I close my eyes to invite the call of sleep again.

I do not want to feel this way. But the only way I can feel whole again is by going all the way. As I tread slowly through these feelings, and emotions of grief and sadness. Circumventing this process of sorrow, this cold dementing feeling that vibrates through my lungs as I breathe.

A sigh for release, I want it indeed. God, are you there? I have been praying still, I hope they reach your stairs. The heavens perhaps where you lay. Will I be able to feel peace, once I experience this test and pass it with belief?

A question in a sea of contemplations. A process that causes me to experience grief at the cost of my zest being spent, as I tread. Walking across the experiences that call my way, to the place of my hard-earned joy.

A dream perhaps, as I once close my eyes. The tears have all but dried, the anxiety has disappeared. I think I’ll take a nap, I believe it’s time. Goodbye ye despair, I’ll see you the next time.

I write about life, and the hope it bears in a poetic context. 💖🕊️

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