The thing about it is that it's unpredictable. Some days you feel good, and some days you don't. Some days you feel like cooking a three course meal and staying up all night baking cookies. Other days it's all you can do to survive the work day. You come home and crash on the couch, longing for an acceptable hour to go to bed. On some days you're the perfect picture of self confidence and self love. On others, you're convinced that your significant other is cheating on you and that you're unlovable and ugly.
There are drugs, yes, but reading about the side effects only fuels your anxiety. So, you drift toward natural methods. You use aromatherapy, do yoga, and take walks. And on those days you can't do anything, you just don't.
Anxiety is an illness, and you must take care of yourself when you're ill. That may mean going to the park for a long walk or it may mean cuddling up under a blanket and having a good cry. But whatever it means, it's going to be okay.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (2 so far!)
Average reader rating 5.00/5
- #1538 Posted 3 years ago
I hope you're right about that last part. I'd like to have that meaning for myself. Not yet. Not yet.
- #1539 Posted 3 years ago
- 5 out of 5
- Published 3 years ago.
- Story viewed 8 times and rated 1 times.
All stories on Ficlatté are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 License. What does this mean?