Okay, so maybe not braver, sorry. My anxiety is pounding my skull knowing that people will get upset, think that my title is me calling them cowards, that they know I'm not brave. Don't be mad at me its not what I meant, I'm sorry. Let me start over.
My anxiety makes me braver then you think; after you call me a worrier, after you deem me too "inside my head." My anxiety doesn't just clog my vision, it fogs yours to the fact that everything I do is a big deal, while flashes of "but what if the worse happens" shoot though your head in my voice. What you don't understand is that it is so very hard to live a life of spontaneity, of breathing in the air and wishing I was the wind, when my mind makes me think that every second someone I love will die because of some arbitrary decision that I chose wrong. It's hard to live a life when your brain only focuses on destruction.
So, what I want you to understand is that if I had to describe myself in one word its brave. And not in the valiant knight, stand in front of an armed man to stop is bullet brave. I'm talking about how every day when I come home I check the closets, under the bed, and behind the shower curtain because I always think someone broke in. You never do that because you aren't afraid of that, you aren't anxious. But through the tight grip my anxiety has on my stomach I look. Every day.
My anxiety makes me afraid of almost every situation, yet in every single one, I swallow and search out my fear; I push forward.
My anxiety makes me braver then you.