I didn’t compare myself to other women until I realized I had something they didn’t. Anxiety. Many people joke about depression and anxiety, constantly using the words loosely. I haven’t met many people who suffer from this, heavily, so it is difficult for people to understand why I am the way I am. How do you explain to your friends that your bed is your best friend, and your enemy at the same time? They don’t understand it. They’ll say, “get over it”, “you can do it”, “you only live once, get out there”… To those people I say FUCK YOU. You aren’t trying to help me, you’re diminishing my existence. It’s a part of me that needs healing and love- not ignorance. Although I appreciate their support, it isn’t support. They’ll say, “I’m here if you need anything”. They don’t genuinely mean that though. And I hate to share such a burden with them. So who can I talk to? Who will understand me and not judge me? There are thousands of people struggling with anxiety and depression. Genuinely be there for your friends. Stop telling them to think a certain way. Don’t tell them that others have it much worse. Tell them you’ll be there when they’re having an anxiety attack midday. Comfort them. Anxiety is constantly present, sometimes it peaks, sometimes it hides. Vacancy doesn’t exist in me. Anxiety takes up space and doesn’t allow other emotions to visit me. I can be the happiest girl for a few hours, then come night time I feel as though I don’t deserve happiness. Anxiety makes me feel guilty for feeling happy. That little bitch is so selfish. Slowly, but surely she’s become my best friend. Definitely a love-hate relationship.