Engaging young people in advocacy, education & prevention
Creating social change around alcohol, drugs, and more

Simply More Than a Word

July 26, 2018 1:08 pm Published by Leave your thoughts

This piece is by Isabel Mercado, a writer and a senior at Ventura High School.

Anxious. The word itself when muttered trembles out of your mouth with the worrisome fear it is being a nuisance in your vocabulary. The “x” in Anxious is much like the feeling, unexpected and quite frankly, uncalled for. Break this word into syllables, Anx-ious, Each flustered on the tip of my tongue represent the uneasy state that Anxious creates. Anxious is strained, tense and disturbed. Anxious becomes airborne. You breathe it in, it fill your lungs, leaving a traumatic bitter taste upon your tongue. Due to Anxious I am half the person I once was, and one fourth of the person I should be.

I always felt apprehensive about saying I was in distress and dismay over my own thoughts. I used every metaphor in my library to explain my pain only to end up repeating myself because there are only so many ways to describe my broken chemistry. At one point I stopped trying. I never spoke about it because I was scared and ashamed. Scared and ashamed over what I have hidden in my own mind.

I believe the word Anxious remembers it vividly. I got this worrisome feeling, deep inside from the moment I woke up. Just getting out of bed and making my body go outside and face the world was too much. Let alone to deal with the monsters Anxious and Foreboding was making up. The nervous and neurotic thoughts flew around my head and down my spine. From the pits of my stomach to the tips of my fingernails, I shook with no reason. I just kept looking down, pressing my hands to my neck, constantly on edge to protect myself from a danger I had no knowledge of. My breathing to the pattern of “Nearer, My God, to Thee” the song played while the Titanic and now my heavy heart sank to.

Anxiety hits you like a ship. I swear the tides have never made me feel this seasick before. I do however try. I try to gain back some control as if that even exists when you’re stranded out at sea. Which means Anxious, you are in control. I assume you’re poseidon. I make sad attempts to anticipate your waves and behave myself  as best I can, in an attempt to keep from rocking the boat. However I can not prevent the next tsunami. Even then I feel the need that I must scream my apologies for the natural disaster I could not help. I couldn’t help having a panic attack that day. The seaweed wrapped around my neck and legs when this intense, alarmed and frightening feeling hits symbolizes that I am forever miserably enslaved to your great deep, dark, blue ocean.

Don’t pity me, I simply haven’t found my sea legs yet. Or so I’ve been told by bitter sailors. I’m sure I shall in no time. In the event if not, I’ll abandon this boat and float on my back, tethered to nothing.

A piece of my mind dreams at night for peace of mind. Perhaps in that dream state I’ll be “okay”.  Perhaps maybe then I can also tape my eyelids to my forehead so at least then I can lie to myself while I’m awake.