I always wonder how it’s easy for some people to wake up every morning and cope with everything that life throws at them with a straight face. For me it was always the opposite. My face is an open book, just like my heart.  I wear my emotions the same way I wear my clothes, the same way I apply my makeup, but there are days when I want to stop wearing my emotions and just go with the flow.

There are days when I wake up every single morning shutting out the people I love, going about my day with a cloud over my head, and not even my daily dose of a large french vanilla light and sweet iced coffee can pick me up. I eventually begin to self destruct but sooner than later I learn to pick up the pieces of myself that I’ve left: the icy words that I’ve let slip through my teeth, my texts, my emails to co workers, or even the way I worked with people who are in dire need of my help.

I watched my mornings become nightfall quickly, I’ve watched myself slowly drag my feet while wearing my best outfits to see my girls, I’ve watched my brothers stare at each other  while we were eating dinner together because my anxiety would get the best of me. I was tired of being told that I was “strong”, I was sick of waking up and looking at myself every morning in the mirror while brushing my teeth and feeling disgusted that I wasn’t good enough, and more importantly I hated myself for not getting rid of this feeling.

The mantra I repeated to myself every morning, “Breathe, you’ll be okay.” was running out of validity, my heart sank more and more daily, but yet somehow I carried my anxiety with me all these years while making the most of myself. It was the kind of anxiety where taking a deep breath felt like I was carrying twice my body weight.


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