Introduction
One of the worst feelings a human being can experience is not knowing their own name. It is looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger, not knowing who you actually are, even though everyone around you claims it is obvious. They know your name, they know your personality, they know “you.” But me, I do not have an answer to any of those questions. I do not know who I am, I do not know what I am like, and I do not even recognize my own name anymore. There is only one thing I know perfectly, by heart, the email address of my psychiatrist.
I do not know who I am anymore, and it does not even hurt. What does hurt is not knowing when it all began, or if it will ever end, or if an ending is even possible. I am trying to understand. I am trying to figure out who hurt me this way, or if I was simply born sad. I am swimming in thoughts distorted by the world around me, by my good old friend anxiety, and by myself, fumbling to distinguish what is truth and what is a delusion.
A Childhood Defined by Shadows
Anxiety traded places with my own name back in my childhood. I suppose it is a classic case, a broken home, an unstable mother, an angry father, and a small soul shattered into pieces. Even then, looking in the mirror felt strange. I did not feel like I was looking into my own eyes, but into the eyes of a complete stranger. Those blue-green eyes held nothing but pain, fear, and endless anxiety. That could not be me, I was five years old. I should have been happy, running outside, riding a bike with scraped knees, and looking forward to dinner at home.
It continued like this year after year, but with one significant change, it stopped terrifying me. It still gripped me, but the fear was gone. The reflection in the mirror still was not mine, it belonged to a very close acquaintance of mine, Anxiety.
Hello? Is Someone There?
Even my psychiatrist has stopped talking to me. My emails and cries for help go unanswered. This is not silent suffering, it is loud, at least to me. I cannot listen to music, I cannot eat, I cannot sleep, I cannot work. I do not have the strength to feel any more like a stranger to myself than I already do. I constantly ask myself, why is this happening, why have I suffered for so many years, and most importantly, why can no one help me?
I feel cursed, as if I was not even meant to be in this world, and so I suffer as a punishment. Whatever is controlling me is not “me,” and yet everyone around me is angry at me, whatever “me” is supposed to mean anymore. Losing a loved one hurts, but what about losing yourself?
When Light Terrifies the Dark
When you live with this twisted and ugly uniqueness, your perception of the people around you changes. You rarely let anyone get close enough to officially introduce them to your “friend,” Anxiety. In most cases, if you do, people eventually leave because they do not want your negative energy to affect them.
Until recently, I was resigned to the fact that there is no such thing as “my person,” that I was simply fighting a war against myself, by myself. But then, he appeared.
I was, and honestly still am, distrustful. What led him to want to get to know all of my pain? What led him to tell my Anxiety that he would drive it out of me? It is so brave that it is almost laughable, isn’t it? Although I did not hold much hope, I have to admit that this boy and his light have a profound effect on my Anxiety. For the first time, she is more afraid than I am.
Conclusion
I am still drowning in the darkness, still struggling with the simplest human tasks, but I have hope now. I have a light I can follow when I can no longer breathe. I am starting to hear a name and turn toward it. Does that mean I finally know what my name is?
I chose this topic to illustrate that anxiety is not just about fear, it is about the erosion of identity. I wanted to show the raw reality of living as a stranger to oneself and the profound impact that a single person’s support can have on a life consumed by darkness. This story is my way of reclaiming the name that was stolen from me.
References
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Author Bio
Petra Mleckova is a writer and mental health advocate who focuses on the profound experience of depersonalization and identity loss. By sharing her raw journey through childhood trauma and the difficult process of reclaiming her sense of self, she aims to give a voice to those feeling invisible within their own lives. Her work is a testament to the fact that even in the deepest silence of anxiety, one can begin to hear one’s own name again.
Published under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0) license for mental health awareness with editorial review.