The symptom of an underlying anxiety

Elena, in the first few days after schools closed, was busy with a thousand things. Then she realized that in her never stopping, something did not sit right. So she starts a work…

At the beginning of this strange period, I understood the school closures as time given to me so that I could do things that I would not normally do. It was great until School of Community on the Friday of the second week, when I realized that maybe all this hard work and my inability to stop were symptoms of an underlying anxiety.

I was sinking deeper and deeper into myself, and thanks to a couple of chats with a friend, I realized that this whole situation made me feel overwhelmed by the fear of losing what I really found. But, most of all, I was afraid that the things that I believe to be true were, in reality, the result of the stability of a routine.

I then began a work to try and see what really sustains everything, even Covid19 and isolation. For now, I have realized that what never dies in me is the desire to see my friends. I also felt the strong fear, not of being infected, but of infecting others. And I have realized how I care immensely for the people around me. Today, after a beautiful lecture by my professor on Aristotle, I realized that I really missed encountering those who usually talk to me through books, and how, for me, studying is a fundamental means to question myself about reality.

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Another great discovery is my need to always feel useful, which is making me work hard at home and gamble everything on the often difficult relationship with my sisters. One thing that really struck me was going to visit my grandmother, while you still could. She began to cry, not for the fear of getting sick, but because she was sad that she would not be able to see us. That is when I realized how much I am loved and how much I always take it for granted, perhaps even thinking that it is something I am owed. This heart, which I often think is not able to love and that I underestimate, really is illuminated. And it is never me who lights it, but it is always something external that I cannot foresee.

Elena, Forli, Italy