Anxiety Brain and Me

I’m finally putting into words what anxiety feels like for me.

Sometime in my 20s, I dug up my anxiety and have been trying to bury it ever since. Unsuccessfully so, I might add.

what you don't see is that hours before this photo
was taken, I was an anxious lil cookie.
(PC: John Cassidy)

It has become a project of sorts, something I will stop at nothing to fix. I started therapy. Still anxious. Started praying more. Still anxious. Started back running. And reading. And resting. Still anxious. Tried setting boundaries and saying no. Still anxious. Learned to listen to myself and ask for breaks. I meditated and partied, then realized partying wasn’t the answer, then spent more time laying in the sun listening to music and napping and enjoying nature and, guess what, still anxious. Moved back home (big win!) and I STILL GET ANXIOUS.

"Why you coming back to Trinidad?"

touched down in the 868!

"What you wanna come here for?"

"Why you want to move back to Trinidad?"

"Trinidad have nothing for you."

"Girl, find yourself an American man so you could get citizenship and stay there."

The people want to know why on earth I would come back to Trinidad and give up on living in the U.S., the land of opportunity
and all that jazz. Well, besides the fact that I have to move back home for contractual reasons (iykyk), more importantly, I want to move back. 

I've spent seven long, fun, transformative, life-changing but arduous years in the US of A and now it's time for a new phase of life. Leggo.