I
just watched a YouTube video about someone named Matt (hehe) who shared his
experiences of living with anxiety. He is only 20 years old, and I am 26. I
also had anxiety in my teenage, just like him. I think it's because that age is
really prone to having many upheavals in the soul. The age is looking for
identity, the age full of temptation.
Everyone
has anxiety disorders, so do I. One day, I did something that was beyond
reason. But I come from a family that is not aware of it. They would advise me
to pray or get closer to Allah. That's not wrong. Not wrong at all. It's just
that the first and quick help comes from a psychologist. Unfortunately, at that
time, there were not many psychologists that I could trust.
Matt
said in his video that after he was able to get through his difficult times,
that everything he went through related to his anxiety, it was not only to be
resolved by going to a therapist, but also from himself. Therefore, Matt bought
a notebook and invited his followers to write an anxiety journal in a book. He
was a bit grumbling because the notebook he bought was $25. Haha.
Yes,
Matt, writing is one of the ways I have been able to survive until now. I write
anywhere, on blogs, on social media, in books. Writing helps me to express my feelings,
anger, and disappointment that I experience. With writing, little by little the
burden on my chest decreases and I feel more relieved.
Matt
said that all anxiety has its roots. And by writing and expressing what we feel
when that anxiety strikes, it can narrow down and bring out the triggers of our
anxiety. Because I know anxiety is something that can be cured.
Then
I realized that the root of my anxiety is my own family. Not in a bad way, I am
not from divorced parents but it could also be called broken home. Because I
felt that at the time the house was not a comfortable place, my parents were
busy with their own problems. If narrowed down again, the source of all sources
is my grandmother.
Since
we moved to her house, even though we had our own house, from there I felt that
all bad things happened to our family. On the one hand, I also feel angry with
my mother because she did not want to choose to win her family.
Until
the time I went to college and left Jogja, I felt more relieved. Even though I
got other anxiety because I had to go to college far from my family, but I
think after I worked and got my own money, living independently, I felt
lighter.
If I
want to curse, I will curse my grandmother. I want to tear her mouth and smash
her against the wall when I remember all her bad treatment. Once at night she
came down and yelled. Then the next day my mother took us back to our old
house. But after they made up, we had to go back to my grandmother's house.
I
hope my grandmother dies.
But
until now she is still not dead. She is still alive and bothering us.
Honestly, all of this happened because of her. We couldn't enjoy life to the
fullest, that's also because of her.
Now
my grandmother is very old. Her body is just skin and bones, but her
personality is still the same. I don't care about her, and even though sometimes
witnessing the lives of each person is sad, it shouldn't be a reason for you to
treat others like trash.
In
the end, I hope we can all be free and survive. Life is short and temporary, so
make your life meaningful and happy.
