Every day is worry for me. Constant worry, excessive worry, over anything and everything that happens, might happen, or has already happened. Mostly, it's what might happen. Especially when the worry is over who will make another snide remark to me about anything I do differently than they.1
I am a person diagnosed with anxiety, which is, technically, the same thing as depression. I take a pill every morning for it, but even this only makes the panic attacks and the extreme, sometimes nonsensical, nightmares go away. It barely does anything for the embarrassing symptoms. I have very bad short-term memory, and worry over remembering things, especially to remember if I've taken my pill or not.2
My hands sweat profusely. I can never hold a lover's hand without them becoming somewhat disgusted by me. It's extremely embarrassing for me. Just think about it. Being able to have a lover, but not to hold their hand. Ever. It makes me very sad.3
Depression for me usually happens randomly over nothing, and, even though my pill tries to stop it, it still sometimes happens. Suicidal thoughts, that I am too much of a wimp to carry out, sometimes confuse my mind over what I'm doing still alive. But I am too afraid to die. I never want to die. I don't even like thinking about it, it scares me so. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to just have never been born. The universe's mysteries frighten me much too much than they should.4
I use the bathroom a lot, and take a lot of time in there (since I am slow). I always get rude remarks about this one. It's hard to explain it to other people. You know how, when a dog gets excited to see someone, they'll pee themselves? It's like that for me everyday. I just can't hold my bladder too much. It makes me nervous. I get anxious, and feel like I absolutely have to go, when it's only a little bit. It makes me ashamed of myself, even more so with the remarks.5
My psychiatrist, the one who gives me medicine, said that, since I'm still young, my anxiety might go away as an adult. It doesn't feel like it, since my mother has it (slightly), but I really do hope that I'll be rid of it soon.
Author notes
I am female. I'm sixteen, and I have entered a few contests on here, and even hosted some. I decided to enter to show people what anxiety is like for people like me.
A contest entry
- Ever Been Judged? by Taylor Renee.
425 points, ended April 17, 25 entries
Honorable winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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This is incredibly sad that people could judge and discriminate against you for that.
I'm depressed, I don't have anxiety exactly, but I take a pill every morning for it. Though not a lot of people know, and the ones that do don't judge me at all. I can't imagine not to have support when I feel like killing myself, et cetera.
I just can't imagine what you're going through.
But I thank you for writing this; I know it opened up my eyes that much wider.
Good luck and great job.
xoxo
-♥-
Tay
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Same for me sometimes. I get sad over nothing.... This is good but is it true? I mean you don't have to answer that but...
It seems to be. Good job anyways and keep the great work up.
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Yes, it is true. Thank you.
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Wow! Oh my gosh I know exactly where you are coming from. My anxiety drives me insane sometimes. I had to start taking blood pressure pills as well, because of my nerves. I get suicidal thoughts and writing tends to be the only thing that seems to help sometimes. When I get in a suicidal or dark mood I seem to write dark poetry. Anxiety and depression sucks. It feels like the walls are just closing in around you sometimes and there is no way to stop it.
I hate being like this myself, but I can't change it. I tend to get panic attacks sometimes that leave me feeling terrible.
Good luck in the contest.
~Joann
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Oh my gosh, that's it exactly, but I stop the panic attacks (usually) with my medicine.
I see you, too, use a character for your screenname. I guess we're very much alike, indeed.
Thanks for commenting!
Seria Evans
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I have no one, now. He broke up with me again on Tuesday. Twice in the one week we went out. I suppose he was not the best choice.
I would never commit suicide, no matter how much I think of it. I could never leave behind the friends, when they seem to need me so.
Sweat is repulsive to many. It gives the impression that one is unclean. It is most embarrassing.
How might you never be the same?
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