“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
By Daniel Michael Dang
Hello my name is Daniel and I have someone I’d like you to meet. I will warn you that he doesn’t have much friends — just me. But don’t be alarmed, he’ll grow on you if you let him. He also hates going outside. But I promise when he’s home, he’ll bounce off the walls and be all over the place. You won’t be able to keep up.
His name is anxiety.
I’ve lived with him since I was 6. Funny, I didn’t see him often when I was little, but I do remember the first time I met him. Our family had recently moved out of my childhood home and into a hotel. I remember how he came in. He slammed peoples’ doors. He raced across the rooms. He hit car alarms. I could feel his pace, his uneasiness and then he introduced himself to me. And the second I said hello — I couldn’t breathe. I literally forgot how to breathe. I remember it so clearly. I was shaking my older brother, but I couldn’t say anything or do anything. I’m pretty sure I scared the shit out of him as I scared the shit out of everyone in my life. Anxiety was making himself at home already and into my life.
[I want to acknowledge that the way I’m portraying anxiety shouldn’t be construed as schizophrenia or multiple personality disorders. I understand anxiety is a different mental illness] but I feel like it’s the best way to explain my experience with anxiety. I apologize if anyone is offended. ]
I remember my mother waking up distraught as if landmines were exploding in her version of war torn Vietnam but this time the only thing exploding was her 6 year old sons mind. My mother would defuse pain and sorrow, like any other traditional asian woman — with food. She unwrapped all this Wrigleys and dentyne ice gum that it became this huge snowball looking grenade and she told anxiety to get the fuck out. She launched it into my face and I chewed the gum for hours. my mom had basically chewed out anxiety for me.
After that incident, I didn’t see him as much as I do now. Anxiety moved far away , but kept me much company when my mother was out later than usual from work.
I never thought much of it. I thought it’s pretty normal to be scared right. But only now do I realize that I met anxiety too early and too many times in my life.
I know what you’re thinking: everybody has anxiety and stress. “Just chill out.” “You worry too much.” “You need to relax.” And yet as much as I tried, my hand was always opening the door for him. Because it was easy. I was alone often growing up with nobody to tell me what was going on or why things were happening and so anxiety told me. anxiety told me it was because my mother had gotten into accident or that something had terribly gone wrong. And you know what, anxiety began to build his credentials like that friend who tells you “I told you so!” too often.
When I was 11, my mother suffered a brain aneurysm. When I was 15, My father was arrested and went to jail. From that time until college, I would see my parents lives get significantly harder and harder each year. Our income would go down 92 % in two years. It felt like anxiety was just screaming at me to listen to him and so it became really really easy to trust anxiety. He was screaming at me because he knew what was at stake. he knew there was no room for error. Or else, my family’s legacy and trajectory would be in turmoil. he’s like that stuck up professor who doesn’t give up on his viewpoint. There is no arguing with him. he throws out ethics, morals and most importantly logic. Never mind, that sounds more like Donald Trump.
But one thing that he’s very good at is controlling things. He tries to control so many things that you just don’t know what decision to make or what way to go — you’re gonna piss him off no matter what. It’s like when you grab so many groceries because you only want to make one trip and then you realize you have to open the door. But with anxiety, you can’t drop anything or have anything touch the ground. It’s over. That’s what it felt like to be with anxiety. You feel like you can only take one trip. you have one chance. As a result, you carry so many things because you feel like you have to. There’s never any time or moment to put any of it down or else you lose. And after a while, anxiety makes it hard to make any decision because everything to him feels like thin ice. Everything is either success or failure. Life or death. A game of chess but you’re only thinking of what ways you’ll lose because you know you’re way more likely to lose than to actually win.
After living with him like any other roommate, I’ve learned what makes him mad. What environments not to put him in. What food and drinks he doesn’t like. no matter how much I try to avoid him, I have to accept that he still lives with me.
But he’s so damn annoying. He walks into my room uninvited. He’s the roommate that leaves his thoughts around the floor like old underwear. he’s the one that forgets to deal with his fair share of demons like dishes in the sink, and he drains your time, money and energy.
Even though he’ll be by my side for a long time, I try to pack more of his stuff into boxes and into the corner of the basement called my mind. I go to the gym twice a day. I eat super healthy. I’m living my life to the fullest and it’s pissing him off. But I just gotta accept that I have to live with him for the rest of my life. He may be that one weird estranged cousin you may have. So just like how people in our lives come and go, I try to remember that he also comes and goes. But recently, I’ve hanging out with this new friend and they are pretty cool. They’re planning on moving in and I think we’ll live together for a long time— his name is happiness. I hope they can get along.
