Fighting Anxiety-Personal Narrative

It was 3am in the morning. She was cold, pale, still. She was dead. In the speed of a heartbeat my mother was gone. Her mind was strong, but it had been her body that failed her. It’s been one year since her death and I have gone into this deep depression. I am trying to fight my anxiety, but not succeeding at all. I am alone and I think about her everyday. I have been seeing someone, in my dreams, on my walks in the woods, even in my house. She wears an all black dress and has an umbrella, although I have no idea who she is.

It was a normal morning and I was on my walk in the woods. It was filled with some of the oldest trees in the world and it is always a bit foggy. I see her, she’s following me. I start running and then I trip over a …show more content…
I get up and look at the clock on my desk that read 3:00am. I went downstairs to see who was banging on the door this early in the morning but it wasn’t coming from the front door. It was coming from my mother’s old room. I froze in fear contemplating what to do. Maybe I should just fight whatever is after me, whatever it is. I grabbed onto the cold metal handle with my shaking hand and pulled it open. Standing there in front of me was my mother. She was the woman I kept seeing everywhere, with the black dress and fabric umbrella. “I’m going to take over your life,” she said. It wasn’t that kind, soft voice she always had, it was a deep, sharp, demon-like voice. This wasn’t my mother it was something pretending to be, to make me feel bad. I tightly grasp the knife I picked up earlier and stabbed it in the stomach. As I did that I felt it choking me, it kept getting tighter and I collapsed to the …show more content…
“You’re not going to win,” I say as I quickly get up and smash it’s umbrella on top of it’s head. It screamed in pain as it dissolved into thin air and I was left alone sitting in the room. I passed out on the cold, wooden floor and after a few hours I woke up to see my mother standing in front of me. “What happened,” I asked her. “You did it. You were able to fight yourself,” she responded. I was confused, why did I need to fight with myself? “You were fighting your depression. I have been looking over you and you have been so depressed this past year. I had to do something to push you into moving on with your life. I created this ghostly mist to connect with you. When you saw your face on the lady you were fighting your depression, and you succeeded. You did good, now move on with your life and be happy.” After that, she lifted off the ground, smiled at me and left, vanishing into the