Confessions of Anxiety

Everything Changed for The Worse

"Cut my life into pieces/ this is my last resort/ Suffocation, no breathing/ don't give a fuck if I cut my arm bleeding/ this is my last resort" ~Papa Roach

After a few more hospital visits, the doctors and nurses released my father. I thought everything would be back to normal when he came home. The house felt so empty and depressing without my dad walking through the halls. All I wanted this whole time was for him to be home to wander the halls, laugh like a family, have family dinners, and enjoy each other. I just wanted my life back before cancer took everything I knew away.

The doctor warned my mom, brother, and me that my dad would ever come out of treatment a better man or a bitter old man. I prayed and hoped he would come out a better man, unfortunately, I was terribly wrong. I wish I could tell you cancer changed him for the better, but then I would be lying to you. My dad turned into my worse nightmare. I felt like a demon took over his body and made him into a monster that should only be in the movies or dreams. No one likes living in a horror movie. That's what my house turned into. My sweet and innocent memory of us sitting in the kitchen turning into something I regretted. At this point, I let my anxiety take over my mind. I didn't know what else to do. My anxiety seemed to be the only thing keeping me together. Little did I know, anxiety made everything worse. I started to cry myself to sleep every night. If I didn't cry, I stayed up staring at the ceiling, letting my mind wander into a dark place. I let my anxiety eat me alive on a night like by this by listening to all the evil words in an unknown place of darkness. My happy thoughts escaped into the thick air as if they never meant anything to me. I tried to hold on to my joyfulness.

Soon enough, anxiety ripped away even last bit like a parent taking away his or her child's favorite blanket when it's too old for one and ruined. Anxiety never feels bad for taking away joy like a parent does. It has no feelings. It has and always will be the demon living in my brain. Once any sign of happiness disappeared from my mind, I started to see life as if I lived in a dark cave without a light to see. I stopped smiling. I cried myself to sleep every night. My life spun in a downward line of depressing.

My dad's new outlook on life made everything worse. Not only did I have to deal with this new feeling called anxiety, but I have to cope with my dad's demons as well. I learned to refer his actions as demons because he fought some evil force every day just to life for so long. That's what I felt like at least. Again, I wish I could just ask him if I'm right. Anyways, I only thought he acted as if he fought demons because of how much his moods would change. I remember my dad being a very kind, thoughtful, and caring man all the time before cancer; not this bitter, angry, abusive man he has turned into after cancer. One moment he would be happy and be smiling then out of nowhere he became violent and unbearable toward my mom, brother, and me. My dad's words came out of his mouth as if he had a voice in his head talking to him. Nothing else could explain his actions. He had to be fighting something like I was.