I have a beast inside me. Her name is anxiety. Sometimes she invites her roommate depression. I have to be honest some days are tough. Some days the anxiety feels so incredibly real it doesn’t feel escapable. Nothing anyone says helps. Every negative thought I have is so believable it feels like strong punches to my gut. It’s those days when I have to find something deep down inside of me to cling to. It’s buried; that desire for help. Some days It takes writing in a journal for 3 incredibly long pages every day. Some day’s it takes a kick-boxing class. Some days, it takes crying until the tears run out. Without a doubt, it has taken many appointments with my councilor. Happiness isn’t a birth right and quite frankly for many people, it cantake real practice every single day. For me, I find myself crawling out of dark room a constant reality so much so that sometimes it’s gets easier to stay put. The shame then comes when I realize what I have done. I have been negative again. I have been “that person” again. I quoted “this is the best it gets why try?” more times than I can think. But recently, it’s getting easier. I have to be patient. I have to find that self-forgiveness muscle and start working it (sometimes beyond its capacity). Depression. Anxiety. It’s all exhausting. But for me, it’s has gotten better with the help of councilors, friends, physicians, colleagues. It getting there. I just had to find a way to ask for help. Help I didn’t know was there. The anxiety isn’t gone. Not even close. But it’s better. The more I work on the re-framing constant negative self-talk, the easier it has become to embrace my power. My autonomy. My own need for self-care. My need for love. I struggle with anxiety and depression, but it doesn’t control me. It doesn’t define me. I am a beautiful complete and whole person. The moment I stop trying is the moment the beast takes control and if I have any say in it, she never will.