Why I Fight

I really can’t think of a good way to tee-up the story I’m about to tell you. I think I’ll just jump right in but I need to get a few disclaimers out of the way first. Anxiety is my middle name, my brain is almost constantly running a million miles a minute and, as you can imagine, that gets very exhausting. Sometimes, my brain will run too fast, trip over itself, and spontaneously combust, also known as, a panic attack. Those are super fun because you can’t breathe, your heart is beating out of your chest and you feel like you’re gonna die. Panic attacks suck. It’s a very dark head space, it feels like it’ll never end, your mind is so overbearingly loud that you’d do anything to quiet it. Because my story involves mental health struggles, I just wanted to let you know before-hand that I’m okay, I have an incredible support system at home, I am truly okay, but panic attacks are intense. Also this is about to get pretty serious but stick it through to the end please. K, thanks.

Quite a few months ago, I had a dream. It was the most realistic dream I’ve ever experienced, I don’t know what having a vision feels like, but it was probably similar. I’m gonna tell you about it, solely in the hopes of helping someone else. To put it simply and get right to the point, I was at the top of a tall building… and I jumped. The strangest part was, after I fell, the dream didn’t end. I hope this doesn’t sound dumb, but, I was like, a SpIRiT outside of my body. The initial feeling was freedom, overwhelming freedom. I remember I started running as fast as I could, I was free. However, I didn’t get very far before I heard the ambulances and the commotion. I stopped in my tracks as my remorse started to set in. I went back to the scene, and I saw my family. I saw them crying. It was such an intense feeling of instant regret, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I wanted so badly to go back that it was physically painful. Yes, I had personal battles, but I then realized that I wanted to fight them, if only for the sake of my family. At that moment, it seemed like such a small price to pay.

Later, as I watched my family box up everything in my bedroom, I realized that my life was so much more than what took it in the final seconds. It was almost a beautiful moment, standing there in my room, when it finally clicked that I wasn’t my anxiety. The one thing that I thought was a definitive part of me, it controlled most of my days, I thought it was who I was. It was then that I realized I was defined not by my struggles, but by the things that I loved so passionately that pushed me to fight back. I stood there on the other side of life, surrounded by all the memories of my passions, my interests, and the people I cared about, and I could finally grasp that that was Francesca Molgaard. A big ol’ compilation of all the things she loved enough to make her get up every morning and face the same fight over and over again. That’s what we all are, I think. Nobody’s life is perfect. Everybody is facing their own day-to-day battles. Speaking from experience with mental illnesses, it would be so incredibly easy to give up, but I fight. Every day, I fight. I know a lot of you do, too. For me, it took one heck of a nightmare to recognize why. So I’m here to tell you, if you’ve ever struggled with picking your head up off your pillow in the morning and trying again, take stock of all the things you love. The big things, the simple things, the stupid things, it can be anything. Find reasons to keep going. I have a list. Right now I’m at number three-hundred and twenty-eight. It might not be the ultimate solution but on the tougher days, it makes it a little easier to remember who you are, what you love, and why you should keep fighting.

-Francesca Angelina

2:55 PM EST

03/05/2021