Wise words from my favorite author… This is an apt description of what my bipolar disorder feels like on a regular basis, and I think it’s kind of lovely/weird/fantastic that I too have considered my anxiety and illness to be a storm, and often use this type of thinking.
Best wishes.

Victoria (V.E.) Schwab

I’m always searching for the right words.

For my stories. For my life.

After all, words are the form we give ideas, a way to make the intangible tangible, conceivable, real. Words confess, they admit, they ground.

I’ve always been an anxious person. Neurotic. Hyper-vigilant. I have high walls, struggle with change, emotion, vulnerability. At some point, it tipped. When I get overwhelmed, my body shuts down. I start shaking, in that teeth chattering, heart stuttering, flushed and sick to my stomach way. I try to mask it, to pretend I’m okay, and sometimes that works, and sometimes it gets worse and worse until I’m sitting on a bathroom floor, wishing I could find the plug and pull it.

It’s always been a war, mind versus body, mind over body, body over mind.

For someone who’s pretty good with words, I’ve struggled to find the right ones for this. For…

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