Anxiety and Turning 21
The miracle of survival
Anxiety is like a parasite, sucking out your joy like painting off a canva
A few weeks ago, I turned 21.
Since I clocked sixteen '21' is one age I have been looking forward to and setting mental standards of all I should have achieved. From, being an author, multiple interviews on TV, crushing medical school, throwing a book launch/ birthday party with my favs, posting edge snatching pictures on this day with a long caption on Instagram on how grateful I was on how much I have achieved in such a small time and even being in love 😂.
Plot twist, I don’t have a single book to my name, I have been on the TV once, medical school is/was (considering I’m not a student right now) crushing me, I spent my birthday in the rain trying to order Shawarma and buying jeans in a local thrift shop, I didn’t even take a single picture of myself and I have stopped posting long caption pictures for my birthday since my 18th and being a single pringle is one of my most embraced status.
So, yeah, I’m sitting here watching other people celebrate and snatch edges on their birthdays when I cried myself to sleep on my birthday eve because I wasn’t ready to grow older. Quite a mess to be honest.
But you know what is missing in my tale of a messed up birthday, months filled with panic attacks than I have ever had in my entire life. Months of wishing I didn't even exist. Months of crying almost every day because I felt so powerless. Months of watching everything around me crumble, while I sat in the middle of it all, unable to do anything! Months of failed attempts to demand courage from a heart that was tired of beating. Months of struggling to meet deadlines while it felt like I had reached a deadline for relevance and living.
I avoided every 'How are you?' Because I was always tempted to say I was struggling to breathe and it felt like a heart attack each time I tried to challenge the voices in my head telling me I was a failure and my life wasn't worth it. But 'nobody really cares' was always why I said 'I'm well' when I actually wanted to jump into a well with no end.
What sucked most about these months was the uncertainty. 'Is today going to be one of those?' or will God grant me the privilege of seeing even a flicker of happiness.
I was literally on my knees begging God to fill my heart with joy and I hated being so sad.
I had to take multiple social media breaks because I didn't want to be one of those people putting out 'cry for help' tweets and 'loling' at the end to push everybody away. Or feel so choked that I would take to ranting on my WhatsApp status before putting all posts down after the suffocation is over. I didn't want that! Because it wasn't anyone's business and it doesn't change anything.
I doubted everything! From all my friendships I held in high esteem to the fact that God even cared at all. It was pure horror happening in my mind.
So, you see on that day, July 6, 2020, I was grateful for survival. For the first time I looked back and didn't see more minions coming after me but I saw myself. I saw how I struggled and fought, I saw how I gave up and thought that was it, I saw the suicide notes I never let myself complete. I saw survival!
I'm in a way better place and I can actually post a picture of myself smiling without feeling like a fraud. I can go one day without calling myself names and going on multiple rides of self-sabotage. Just today, I told myself sincerely of how proud I was of myself. Not because it was part of my therapy instructions but because I was truly proud.
Worthy of note is that I sought professional help as against my mother’s sincere opinion that all I needed was self-motivation. (This woman went through a lot trying to make sure I was okay. I remember her coming to me one evening and saying 'Ogo, how long are we going to do this?' I love how she was there and present even when she didn’t understand). I’m so grateful for the therapists and counsellors on Mentally Aware Nigeria Initiative and my personal counsellor for sticking with my ass. Tomorrow is my last session! (Whooshh) and I’m grateful for how far I have come in these past weeks.
I might not have had the perfect 21st birthday but I'm grateful for the family that stood with me and held multiple therapy sessions in my parents' room😂. I'm grateful for the friends I could be vulnerable with. I'm grateful for the gift of such friends and family. I'm grateful for my sugar rush from too many cupcakes on my birthday. I'm grateful for everything.
This doesn't mean I'm immune to all emotional rollercoasters (far from it) and can now tear down walls with my mind, it just means having the strength to write this down validates that I'm in a better place but striving every SINGLE day to reach my best. It's a daily battle yo!
It means I now have the strength to live again.
Like one of my favourite person in the world, Titilope Sonuga said
'Healing is a constant rocking back and forth
Forgive yourself for the backward motion
Give thanks for the courage to inch forward anyway.'
This is my hunch forward and I'm glad for it❤
By the way, how do you tell your Nigerian parent turning 21 means my decision to get a tattoo once in my life shouldn’t be a matter for debate?😩😩
