the insanity of it all

the insanity of it all

Tonight I said, “Sure, I’ll walk with you.”

This is so unlike me. I enjoy my solitary walks across the medical center campus long after sunset – the way the lights circle the tree trunks along the greenway, a little bit of cheer among a sometimes cheer-less day. I’ve been known to stay later simply for this time alone.

Today I had plans for the same. I had bottled up my frustrating moments of the day, ready to release streaming tears down my face as I walked, a therapy in itself. But tonight I said, “Sure.”

We walked side by side with faces pointing forward, the unexpected rain pouring down around us, jackets pulled tightly around our bodies protecting from the wind. We talk, without seeing, about clinical rotations, plans for the upcoming months, the insanity of it all. We laugh when the cars driving by send waves crashing up and over the curb, threatening what little of us is still dry.

We parted ways on the third floor with a smile and see you tomorrow. My face is damp when I reach my car. From the rain this time, not from my overflowing overwhelm. And I’m glad that I said, “Sure.” I’m glad that you asked.

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She is.

She is.

My anxiety’s name is Ann. She is loyal and licentious. She is envious. She commandeers my joyful moments and replaces them with doubt. I call her Ann because “Ann”xiety (duh), but also I often have to remind myself that she is simply Ann emotion. She is not me; nor does she represent me. She does not have the final say because she is disobedient, ruthless, and deceitful. She has no one’s best interest at heart, other than her inconsolable friends depression and despair. She is simply an emotion that forces me to be intentional with my steps. She is separate. She is there, and I tip toe around her hoping she won’t see. But I also stomp my feet with purpose, unafraid of if she hears. Some days I feel her close like an itch I just can’t spot. Some days I tie her tightly and throw her out with all the rot. She will return, and that is fine. She is an emotion. She is excited by another. She is not me.