Anxiety & Me
Sometimes, I shut down and don’t know what to say because socialising is hard. My mind goes blank because it’s all too much. Some days, everything in the whole world makes me nervous.
Am I a weirdo? Well, yes, but I have an anxiety disorder, and it scares me away from so many things. People sometimes want to know why I can’t just “get over it.” They phrase it in a less aggressive, nicer way than that (usually), but it’s still what they mean.
Why is it such a big deal? I shouldn’t let things bother me like they do. I just have to forget about it. It’s not a big deal, they say, and that’s what I try to remind myself, too — over and over again, every day. I know none of it should be a big deal, but my anxiety tells me a different story, and anxiety is very loud.
I have never not been anxious. Even as the youngest version of myself I can remember, I bit my nails, pulled my hair and was an anxiety-ridden mess. I will always have my anxiety, but it will never define all of who I am.
I am stronger than my anxiety, and I can live with it. I know that, but my anxiety still scares me away. It’s not crippling or anything. Unless I told you about it, you’d probably never know I’m an anxious mess. But, still, I don’t want to be anxious and I don’t understand why I have to be. It’s hard to explain and it’s hard to understand – even for me.
Sometimes, I think all of my friends hate me. I become sure they do. Or, at least, that’s what anxiety says. I know my friends love me, but it’s hard not to think my anxiety might scare them away, too. Relationships make me anxious. Well, not relationships, per se, but since my anxiety is always present, it affects relationships, like everything else. When you date someone, he or she becomes part of you, and since my anxiety is a part of me, it becomes part of him or her, too. My constant need for attention is not easy. My panic attacks are not fun: I ask a lot of questions; I cry; I freak out.
Existing in general makes me anxious. I ask a million questions because I’m convinced if I don’t, I might misunderstand something and do it incorrectly. Everything new I am asked or expected to do is an anxiety. It’s not easy for any of us. Anxiety is draining. It’s a pain in the ass and it’s way less than ideal. I know. My anxiety sometimes scares me away. I don’t want it to, but I can’t control it and neither can you.
My anxiety is a 15-year-old child, thinking it knows what it’s talking about, when really, it’s immature and naïve and will never know how to handle things correctly. Anxiety is like electricity running through my brain with no “off” switch. My whole chest fills with fear and I can’t breathe. My brain morphs into a petulant child who will not listen to logic. There are monsters in its closet, and nothing can convince it otherwise.
Anxiety-ridden people appreciate the little things. If something doesn’t make an anxious person anxious, then, ohmygod, it’s wonderful and so, so appreciated. The moments when I’m not anxious are ones I will always remember. Anxious people will never hurt you because they know too well what it means to get hurt. They don’t want you to go through it. They don’t want anyone to go through it.
My anxiety might scare me away – but as much as I cannot control it, I try not to let it control me. You feel like a burden. You feel like an inconvenience to the people you care about. You know it’s not your fault, but that doesn’t matter. It’s coming from inside of you and feels like you should be able to control it. Sometimes, I control it; I’m not always anxious.
Anxiety is trying. Anxiety is crippling. Anxiety can be a nightmare. But, sometimes, anxiety is bearable. It shows me all I have, can and will overcome.
I have anxiety, but I am not anxiety. That’s the difference. My anxiety might scare me away; it might try to scare you away, too. But, maybe, sometimes, it’s okay to be afraid.
