While making my last post and talking about growing up feeling like I was inadequate and failing to find a place where I could fit in, I remembered this quote by Frida Kahlo and decided this would be a good place to share it. (more…)
It’s no secret to those that know me that I’ve struggled with anxiety my entire adult life. I was barely into my twenties when I simultaneously started having panic attacks, became a hypochondriac and began battling bouts of depression and the consistent, obsessive, repetitive, draining, worrisome thoughts that have plagued me over the last ten years.
I may actually have had anxiety longer than I can actually account for. I do have memories of being very young—five or six years old—and running to my mom, crying, my face and my extremities having run cold, my heart racing inside me because I’d had a moment in which I remembered we were all going to die someday. I didn’t have these episodes often, but they were regular enough for me to remember with distinct clarity that cold feeling of dread bigger and more powerful than my small six-year-old body. (more…)