It’s 2a.m, I am supposed to be studying but somehow, I have managed to scroll through more tweets than I have flipped through pages of my book. That self-righteous voice on my inside decides to remind me of how much of a waste I might become. Thanks to that voice, I can now hear the hammering of my heart beat, my chest is squeezing so tightly and I know that I am only a few eyeblinks away from intense lacrimation.

Later the same day, in a bid to explain upper and lower motor neuron lesions, my lecturer singles me out to explain “The corticospinal tract”. Unfortunately, my luck chooses such instance to rear its ugly head. My brain decides to bail on me too as recalling explicit information on the corticospinal tract becomes an arduous task. Maybe in my brain’s defense that information was never really stored there. The downward spiral that follows is expected as I receive a thorough tongue lashing and a closing remark hinting at how I might become a terrible physiotherapist. I can tell you that this does not assail my already brewing battle with anxiety.

I am finally in the safe haven my room provides and what should be a moment of peace is shattered as my 2 a.m. tete-a-tete with anxiety comes flashing back flanked by what to an observer should be termed “the small incident in class”. Immediately I am reminded of a test that is just around the corner that I might flunk, how I might forget different balance exercises to prescribe for a patient in my clinical examinations, how I would graduate to become the physiotherapist the patients would avoid like a plague because “she doesn’t know what she is doing”. Somewhere in this mix I have forgotten to give myself credit for even assuming I will graduate as my mind is already conjuring up images of me jobless, homeless and begging on the street because should my degree fail me, I have no skills that might spell good fortune for me in the nearest future.

You might have judged me as being overly dramatic which is not a wrong judgement but these fears I have as regards the uncertainty of my future drives me to the darkest of moods and a recurrent summertime blues. In a bid to save myself lest I go crazy from anxiety I started thinking of active ways to salvage my sanity because 2020 is the year my mental health flourishes. Amen?

I wish I had an “aspire to acquire story” or “100 powerful tips that helped me crush anxiety to death” piece for you, that would leave you either rolling your eyes while cussing at me with the entirety of your might or might weirdly motivate you, that’s if you are the type who enjoys listening to and reading such materials (P.S: no judgment, as my mantra is “let people enjoy things”). I got an eureka moment where it was revealed unto me that in my excessive worry about what tomorrow has in store for me, I have failed to live in my today.

I have simply reverted to doing things that make me laugh myself to breathlessness. Spending time with people I love does great wonders as opposed to being continually cooped up alone in my room. Giving myself treats every now and then to tell myself that I appreciate how far I have come and giving myself these short pep talks of how I would be just fine in the future is sure doing wonders. I have made it a point of duty to write down my goals, work towards them (I’m excited to let you know that I am now learning a skill) and live in today amidst all the hustle and bustle of trying to create a beautiful tomorrow.

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