Here’s the thing about anxiety: you learn to cope. It becomes bareable.
But no one asks about the in-betweens, about the mortifying gray areas, the moments in which time stands still and you are staring your broken pieces in the face. The moments you pull yourself back up, never really knowing how you managed to do so on your own yet again. The exhausting, excruciating, gray areas.
You are stronger after each battle. But always carry the fear of the next.
Still, you cling to hope, the only thing that pushes you to seek the light in the midst of darkness.