Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
I blink. “Greer, I…uh,” before I can finish my sentence tears fill her eyes.
“Oh god,” she says, covering her mouth.
“Greer,” I say, reaching out my hand to touch her arm, but she backs away.
“No, you don’t have to say anything. It’s fine.”
It’s not fine, but I can’t be the man she needs when I’m suffering like this. “I’m sorry,” I tell her, feeling the need to escape. Escape from my feelings. Flee from this world I’m in right now.
I have to face my anxiety head on.
My chest constricts as Greer rushes out of the room. I want to chase after her. I need to tell her how I feel. That I’m madly, truly, deeply in love with her.
But then what?
We live happily ever after?
I can’t live this lie. This life where I know my anxiety is always lurking around the corner ready to attack.
I pack my bags and head out the door, ready to face things head on.
“Hi Dad,” I say as he opens the front door of my childhood home. “Can I stay here awhile?”
His eyebrows nearly shoot into his receding hairline. “What’s going on? Everything okay?” His tone is one of worry, but I quickly put him at ease by telling him I just need a break for a while.
I’m not even sure for how long.
After settling into my childhood bedroom, I slide into my old desk, thumbing through the internet on my phone, searching for articles on anxiety crutches. I get lost down the rabbit hole of anxiety, and ways to overcome the stress, and decide to go for a walk outside.
I slip on my tennis shoes, and head downstairs.
“I’m heading out to see your mother in a bit. I’m sure she’d love to see you,” my father says before I walk out the door.
I glance at him from over my shoulder. “Sure, I’ll be back in an hour and we can go.”
My father nods, telling me to enjoy my walk.
And then I’m off, wandering the streets of Magnolia Ridge. I pass by Greer’s father’s home, and my thoughts instantly replay all the memories of growing up here. How I used to swing by their house to check on her under the guise of going to hang out with her brother.
I think about my anxiety. I think about my mother and all the cruel things she said to me growing up.
I think about Greer as my anxiety crutch.
I remember one phrase I read today, ‘Where the mind goes, the body will follow.’
I repeat the words over and over in my head. Right now my mind’s in a dark place. A place haunted by old memories. A place shrouded in fear. Fear that blossoms into anxiety the more and more I let it.
I need to retrain my brain. If that’s even possible.
I glance up at the cloudy sky, and suck in a deep breath. “How do I overcome something if I can’t even predict it?” I don’t know when my anxiety is ready to leap out, attacking me out of nowhere.
As if on cue, thinking about the anxiety brings on the heart palpitations. I try to breathe as I stop walking, my heartbeat raging out of control.
I think about Greer, and I’m temporarily calm, but then I push the thoughts of her away. I need to do this on my own. My mind needs to know my body’s not in danger.
My body’s fight-or-flight reaction has been activated, and my body’s on high alert, but there isn’t any danger present.
I sit on the curb, gasping for breath, while repeating aloud, "I'm not in any danger," in an attempt to reassure myself.
The feeling passes, the adrenaline running its course through my system. I can finally catch my breath, and after the dizziness settles, I stand.
I think about how my mind thought about anxiety, and my body followed right along after it, making the saying, ‘Where the mind goes, the body follows.’
I instantly reverse my thinking. I tell myself I’m healthy and strong.
I am healthy. The doctors checked me out. They made sure there’s nothing physically wrong with me.
I’m as healthy as an ox.
I’m as strong as one too.
I sprint toward my house, feeling the rush of my healthy heart pumping blood through my veins. My legs carry me faster as I pick up speed.
Before long I’m hauling ass down the street as fast as I can go, no longer worrying about my racing heart.
I can do this.
My anxiety will not control me anymore.
I rush up the steps to my front porch, and my father’s waiting just inside the door.
“Are you okay?” he asks me as I lean over, resting my palms on my knees, trying to catch my breath.
“I’m fine,” I say, standing to my full height. “Just let me shower and then we can go visit Mom.”
He nods, and I head upstairs.