When my sister and I were little my parents were firm believers in the power of extra-curricular activities. In the summers that meant we were signed up for the community swim team from the time we were able to swim until we aged out. I remember as we got older there was a shift in the atmosphere from when you were little kids and you were just “participating” verses when you were older and you were “competing.” For kids that were now expected to be competitors this meant that your practices were longer, more intense, and always ended in the deep end of the pool.

We would swim over into the diving area of the community pool and our coach would sit on the diving board giving out any last minute announcements as we all found a spot and started the process of treading water. Then the coach would walk away to finish getting everything broken down at the end of practice. You could tell which of our teammates were more experienced in this part of practice. They used little to no effort to keep themselves afloat. Eyes often closed they slowly moved their arms and legs to keep them above water. This contrasted the newer or more dramatic teammates that would struggle to push themselves higher than their neighbors. They physically and noticeably fought against the current growing in the pool. After ten to fifteen minutes our coach usually told us we were done for the day and we would go about our day except for one particular day.

Our swim coach had gotten a phone call that went longer than expected so our fifteen minute treading water exercise quickly extended into twenty minutes and then twenty-five. After thirty minutes we were all still there treading water in the deep end of the pool, some of us straining to see where our coach had went. This was uncharted territory. Could we just get out and leave? The edge of the pool was right there and we were clearly over the end of practice? Would be get in trouble if our coach returned and we weren’t there? No one could be sure. With swift apologies our coach returned and dismissed us for the day but not without all of us feeling the increasing soreness and tension that built from the extra time in the water. It wasn’t as if treading water had become more difficult than the day before but, rather not knowing when we could stop caused undue stress both physically and emotionally.

I don’t know how else to describe living with depression and anxiety. A diagnosis that while has to do with your mind affects your body and your soul. It’s like treading water in a big open space all by yourself. You’ve lost sight of the shoreline and there are no boats or people in sight. You just keep treading water in hopes that one day you’ll be able to stop. Some days it’s not as bad because the waves are calm and you can float rather than tread. Still alone and still submerged but manageable. Other times the waves crashing over your head you are fighting as hard as you can to catch your breath.

You’d swim to the shore if you only knew what direction you needed to head. You’d do pretty much anything to make it stop the constant pull of the current dictating your daily life. You think back to a time before you went in the water and you remember what it felt like to not spend everyday fighting. You long to just have a moments peace. A brief rest but the hope for land slowly fades and you succumb that this is your new reality.

Your muscles constantly ache from being hyper aware ready for the waves to come at any given time. Your eyes grow heavy from never getting a restful nights sleep as you’re plagued with nightmares of what could be or what was. You’re mind starts telling you that there’s a way out if only you’re strong enough to stop treading water and just fall beneath the waves. To let go, to find peace, to stop fighting. You think about it-it’s been a long fight- but you can’t bring yourself to do it. You think of the seagulls and how free they look as they fly overhead. You wonder if you’re finally close to land as they need to have safe harbor somewhere? But no land comes, no boats pass, and another day passes among the waves.

That’s how living with anxiety feels. No matter what you do you never climb out of the watery pit. You’re too afraid to admit to those around you that you might need help and that you’re sinking. Because then people might realize how weak you are. You don’t have the strength left or perspective to believe that help isn’t weakness. That in fact there’s courage in admitting you’re tired from fighting for so long. You’ve started drowning in the face of your silence. When I was little I thought that thirty minutes in the pool treading water almost killed me. Little did I know that I would spend the next twenty years of my life treading through my emotions and my anxiety trying to survive. It’s never not there, an enemy that has long overstayed its welcome. There’s never a break or a reprieve for good behavior, rather I just pray that maybe one day I’ll find rest however, that comes.