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Generalized Anxiety Disorder. That was what Kenma had been told he had at age thirteen, sitting in a therapist’s office with his PSP held tightly in his hands. He didn’t know what that meant, all he knew was there was a name for how he felt every second of the day - every heart pounding, mind numbing second of every damn day. The panic he felt walking through the crowded hallways in school, the paranoia that he would stand out too much and be picked on, the fear of others finding out what his beliefs were and being hated for them. Even the tiniest mistake could send him into a spiral of negativity, leading to yet another draining panic attack that he would have to ride out in the bathroom during class.
The doctors had given him some medicine to help control his anxiety and panic attacks, suggested he continue going to therapy regularly, and sent him on his way. He wasn’t sure if the medicine they gave him really improved anything, or if the bi-weekly visits to the therapist really helped him get his worries off his chest, but they seemed to make things a little less terrible than before.
High school hadn’t been kind to him mentally, the pressure to be the best student he could while living up to his volleyball team’s expectations as a setter was a lot for him to handle. By his second year, it wasn’t uncommon for him to end up back in the locker room a few minutes before practice was officially over to try and calm himself down from an oncoming wave of anxiety. Kuroo always knew what was wrong, and let him leave whenever he needed to, he guessed that was one of the perks of having your best friend as your volleyball captain.
He’d call up Shouyou sometimes when he needed someone to distract him, and the ginger always answered and babbled on about what he was learning or something funny Kageyama did during practice. Other times Kuroo would seek him out and simply come to be there for emotional support, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and being like an anchor for him to hold on to.
His anxious moments weren’t always quiet though, they weren’t the soft, romanticized moments between him and his friends that could become his lovers one day that the media always portrayed them as. There were days when he screamed at the top of his lungs, breathing coming out in choked gasps as he sobbed, his whole body trembling. There were days he slapped away Kuroo’s gentle and comforting touches while he backed himself into a corner of his room, mouth unable to form words to explain how he was feeling or what he needed. There were days he pulled out his hair and hit his head with balled fists telling himself how stupid he was for feeling this way.
He would always be doing fine until all of the pressure and expectations became too much and he cracked, crumbling to pieces and caving in on himself. And then there would be nothing, a feeling of numbness for a long time that gave him a much needed break but also tormented him. Taunting him during moments he should be happy with his friends, but he instead was reminded about how many people were in the room and how insecure he felt.
His previous therapist had told him he wasn’t as worse off as some people with anxiety disorders were, but all that did was make him feel worse for seeking help that others probably needed more than him. Was he sick enough to be on medication for his anxiety? Was he unstable enough to really need a therapist? It ate him away inside, always questioning if he was faking all of this just to feel like he was wanted, needed, special.
Kenma didn’t know how to fix himself, he never had from the beginning. No matter what medicine he was on or what kind of therapy he went to, he didn’t know how to help himself and get better. He was starting to believe that one day he’d be past the point of no return, that he’d be in so deep nothing would help anymore. And with how things were going currently, he worried that day was coming soon.