Sometimes storms arrive indirectly. In a no less lethal force like tsunamis. But, there’s always more to a story than its greatest conflict.

Yet, we swim anyway. They say its “different strokes for different folks.” Just stay above water. Don’t allow your mind to talk you into a corner. Preparation is survivals strongest tactic. This self-driven account prepares your survival against the dangers of anxiety and common pitfalls of modern day beliefs.

Just like in real life survival stories, there was never just one lone survivor. The are solitary traits, but humans are social beings. We evolve together. Experience tells us a gruesome story of those before us, who went against the waves. The community survives, but the individual often pays. Overall, we are an anxious generation swimming with the flow of society. There are individuals drowning, still. These frantic splashes are the mentally dysfunctional plays of obstructed intelligent energy.

Some of the more priviliged, make it a shore, free styling. Originating from families who encourage each other’s free-spirited development to stay free-minded in turmoil. Others doubt ever making it home, tiring from treading constantly. But enough do hope that the right wave will carry them to safety.

~Then there’s the DSM. Textbooks disorders for the many faces of shame, but times two. The many mental discrepancies. Those misdiagnosed with other mental diseases, unfortunately, find themselves working backwards to attain a more primal cause. That’s just for those fortunate enough to have been lucky to receive the more simple diagnosis: Anxiety.

Not a mental disease. A mental unease. The future, too much concern during the present storm. Other’s, still, too weak to even surface on their own against this offense. Death by asfixsuation? Drowning? No, depression.

Depression could’ve been first. For me, It arrived 7th grade. I knew, then, what it felt like to be afraid. Not just the fear of life itself, but the terror of not wanting to survive.

“Admitting you have a problem and require help, means your own your way to being saved,” said psychiatry.

Doctors and health professionals proceeded to assure me, not to splash while amongst the sharks in the sea. Still, I splashed and school bullies, controlling partners, and greasy salesman came rushing hungrily. And then my counselor spoke once more:

“Vulnerable prey dont have to look vulnerable these days.”

He asked me about taking flotation devices for the rest of my life. I’ll still be prey inside, but outside I wont appear to be. How would I like to have fretless breaths in the present moment of the storm, even if, my greatest fears haunt me to the bones?

At this point, I’m exhausted and have been convinced by a professional, I can’t do it alone. Yes, I became very inclined. My hero, was not to be called super by no means. It went by the codename SSRI (something-something).

See, it wasn’t just the trauma I lived, it was knowing I couldn’t face it on my own. Environmental pressures remind you, you dont belong. You’re in a stranger’s backyard. It’s what breeds paranoia in prey. Sacred survival tactics kept anxiety alive for so long, but the community made an adjustment to the new modern day frame. So I concluded, to join said society.

I decided to read up on my own condition. I endured challenges everyday. But being afraid of most of them, I had to mend. Finding my place started to become extremely important for me. Especially, as a parent. I had to redefine who I was in my modern city; in Philly.

What was clear? What I wasn’t.

I am not anxiety. I am not prey. I am no victim, in need of a saviour. More than welcomed, I was celebrated into this world. My life is mine all on my own. I was engineered to overcome primal fears with one mind and two hands. My source was evolution itself. Evolving my mentality starts with me, understandably, but ends with ‘we.’ Nothing ever evolved, did so by itself. Understanding how important relating to other beings, was my answer to uncovering my hidden potential.

The partnership offered to me was that of taking drugs. Mental health demanded a different type of trust from me, than the one I found in community.

Doctors wanted me to give control over to their treatments or drugs to convert me into someone I knew nothing of. I called it “S.T.S.” ‘I’ll give you something to survive, at a big cost!’ Sounds stupid, right? What I really needed… ~Trust.

That’s what Community had that was different from medicine. Admit it, very different! I call it ‘T.Y.H.’ This was a ‘I’ll teach you how to survive, at no cost’ trust indeed. Where would I be without life before me? Living together meant sharing strife, and dividing wealth equally. Its pattern is organized inside-out and beautifully unfolds in layers throughout.

The more I confided in togetherness, the more understanding just came to me. The storm waves of anxious thoughts, came not to disrupt my mental chemistry. It is naturally occurring grace that gives meaning to history. It strengthens community on a teach/learn-learn/teach based technique. Every blessing we now hold, separately, was once great fear for something unknown. The sequence to which life goes on, depends on the story of each one told. There’s value in each mental struggle. Turning anxiety into a lesson to be learned.

• Until, the focus changes, the canvas will always seem treacherous to take on. But, the reality of fear is, actually, something unknown. A blank canvas. The present is empty and metamorphic. It is whatever we chose to create.

We seek the end, like a contender aspires to finish. We do it, all for the love of first place. We do it, infatuated with the race. The pain of losing became the unwanted reality. But make no mistake, that too, was etched into the learning space.

You are present today, because you chose life. Be delighted in how you partake in a history you made. Your most troubling ordeals, possess the greatest potential for gratitude. Either way, it’s your decision to feel however you feel about this moment. I will never forget that I chose fate, upon wanting life. The fears of the future has already been faced. If I died at birth, than in death, I’ll be wide awake.

Because of how unfocused love goes about the race, I’ll understand that love pools sometimes can collect, in an unwanted place. I want all things I love and also hate (lack of a relevant term). This way my intention has definite, boundaries I can trace. A detailed picture can start to surface and I can envision depth in colors. Being able to feel character and the moods conveyed in relation to the artist’s potential to create.

Sometimes storms arrive indirectly. In a no less lethal force like tsunamis. But, there’s always more to a story than its greatest conflict. Like, where it originates from and what was achieved? More importantly, is the meaning solely seasonal, or is it a timeless piece?