The air is still. My heart is thumping. The space in my chest collapses in on itself, constricting tighter and tighter. There isn’t any emotion or feeling or thought behind it. It doesn’t have a name.
But I know what it is.
Fear of everything and nothing and all the things running through my head.
It fills me with sadness and despair.
Fear and anxiety have followed me for as long as I can remember, but this tightness in my chest is new. I couldn’t say where it comes from or when it started, but I also can’t make it go away.
My heart aches for those just like me. I have many dear friends who have admitted they struggle with depression, and it looks a little bit different for everyone.
For me, depression looks like isolation, despondent thoughts, and restlessness with my current situation. And this seething snarl of sadness beneath my ribs, sucking out my life.
Tonight I’m going to put on my shoes and brave the cold. It’s my second meeting with a new therapist because I can’t make the tightness go away on my own.
My fear is my shame. And this is me, getting help.