I can describe my anxiety in simple actions, such as
The constant pushing back of my cuticles
The picking of long-gone hangnails
The cracking of each joint in my hands
The rubbing of the back of my hand across my lips
The restless bouncing of my knee
The cycling of a single thought through my head
The intense focus on a single part of my body
What is harder to describe is
The carving of dark canyons through my brain that, if I wait too long to fill in myself, become rivers of rushing water that take away my breath
The fear as I am pulled from the warm bank into the angry and uncontrollable white foam
The feeling of my body tingling as less and less oxygen reaches my abdomen
The thrashing as I try to pull myself up through the water crushing my skull
The faint relief as I feel the first of my fingers break the surface and touch the air
The gasping breath I take as my head breaks through the choppy surface and I catch a glimpse of the steep canyon walls
The wonder as I notice the dusty orange color of the stone, the patterns of red and brown birthmarks horizontally layered in the sides of the ravine
The light as I once again glimpse the stars flecked across the blue-black sky
The strength returning to my arms to pull my shaking body from the underswells
The warm breeze like two arms around me as I set my palms firmly upon the earth
Hannah Black 