I swim in a sea of perpetual motion, swaying back and forth in time with an invisible tide that originates from within my own body. My heart beats to a rhythm both unseen and unknowable, and I feel my vision blur in and out repeatedly as each pulse thrums throughout my entire body. It’s as though someone is ram-rodding a metaphysical spike through my brain and my body every few seconds to every few minutes. Except no, that’s wrong. It’s as though the spike is already there, and someone is merely slamming a mallet into it, causing my whole body to vibrate and tremble as though struck by an electric current.
I know why this is happening. Of course I do. I can almost always pinpoint the source of my discomfort when it happens. I’ve spent the last few years learning about myself, after all, and learning what pushes my buttons, what makes my anxiety and mental health tick the way it does. I’ll be refilling the prescription tomorrow, the one whose lack in my system is causing the offending vibrations, but in the meantime, I continue to swim and sway and roll to an internal tide that no one but myself can see or experience.
I’ve worked the past two days in the midst of this tide, pushing myself through the weariness and discomfort, through the bleary vision, through the spikes of anxiety, through the heart palpitations. And I’ve been proud of myself for doing so because it wasn’t so long ago that I couldn’t find the strength to fight. I’ve grown these last few months, fought to gain ground and secure a new foothold in my mental health, and it shows. At least to me. There’s no reason anyone should notice the difference. None are as acutely aware of the battles that wage inside me on a daily basis, so none would understand the growth I’ve experienced or appreciate it the way I do.
There’s much work to be done now, so I continue to push forward. Time and tide wait for no man.
