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I get so tired at the thought of trying to explain anxiety.
I dread going to bed at night. I know as soon as I lie down that I will not sleep for hours. I will try to relax by focusing on my breathing. I try to count my breaths in an attempt to refocus my mind. But the feeling of apprehension does not go away. I just can't stop it. I cannot stop feeling nervous about something. Most of the time there is not anything in particular that I am worried about but I am nervous about the prospect of something happening that has not yet occurred. Sometimes I get flashbacks to moments in my life where I have felt this feeling and I relive every detail of the event. I can feel it rising until I begin to have palpitations and I find myself breathing irregularly. My diaphragm becomes tense, My hands begin to go numb and I have this horrible feeling of being trapped inside my body. I can feel the blood surging in my palms, my legs, my head. Almost as though I want to unzip myself and run away. I feel like I am drowning. Like I cannot get enough air into my lungs. The darkness at night feels all consuming. It feels endless , like the possibilities are limitless. So many combinations of unfortunate circumstances swirl around my mind. I cannot stop thinking of the deaths that occurred last year. Particularly Millie and my uncle. Millie's death I find nauseating to contemplate and I feel a tremendous sadness. Like nothing I have felt before. Older people have lived their lives of fulfilment but when someone young dies it is a tragedy. It is unspeakable. I hoped I would never be able to define that word and that I would never expereince the impact of it. It is a gaping wound that never heals. It opens up time and time again and it hurts. I am haunted by her death. I cannot do any art for everytime I draw or sculpt or paint I recall times where she would sit with me and we would draw together , when I did portraits of her from life for projects and when she would sit and watch me paint. I dispise these memories because it was the time before I knew what tragedy was and what it felt like to experience it. I wish I was still naive and I feel somehow that my mind has been tainted as I have struggled to experience happiness in it's truest wholeness ever since. I have recurring memories of her voice when she said 'I wish I could paint like that' I hear her laugh and I see her face. I feel awful. I feel this bottomless sense of guilt. It makes me feel selfish. How can life be so cruel to take someone who was so kind and so good ? I feel as though I don't deserve to have the ability to make art. For she is dead and can do nothing but be in complete and total nothingness and yet I get to live and to experience all that life has. It's a very uncomfortable feeling, to imagine death. In reality I ask myself how Is it even possible to contemplate and I come to the same stark realisation that it is not possible . I presume this is why it is so uncomfortable. I hate to think of it and I think of it too often. My mind turns towards my uncle when I think of his final hours. The times where my mum explained the full extent of his situation . The aimless wandering , the delusions , the fear of the impending reality that his life was to end. Your dreams failing, your plans crushed. The reality that tomorrow may never come. The tedious wait. The drifting Into that nothingness. The pain of dying. I realise when I write this that it is not death itself that I am troubled by but suffering. Death cannot be controlled. You cannot cheat it. You cannot really experience death because it is the end, it is nothing. But suffering can be managed, it can be minimised. I hate and I am frightened of suffering. Experiencing pain whether physical or mental. I hate seeing other people suffer. You know that it is unnecessary. But you realise that we are full of faults and life is full of complications that cannot be avoided. I believe in reality that I am simply scared of living. I am frightened of life, of experiencing so much only to eventually drift away into nothing.
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