5 Things That Scare Me About Anxiety

1.  I won’t be a good ______________.

            …friend, girlfriend, employee, daughter, aunt, sister…and the list goes on.  There are times when anxiety prevents me from engaging.  I don’t want to be around people.  Everything is a reminder of something I want, but don’t have, can’t do, etc.  And so I retreat.  To others, though, I can completely understand why my lack of engagement may seem like disinterest, like I’m selfish, like I just don’t care.  Yet, I can’t always make myself put on a happy face and “fake it ‘til I make it,” as the saying goes.  In fact, I am currently looking at a quote that says, “Be as you wish to seem.”  Good advice, but easier said than done. 

2.  I will ruin my own life.

            Similarly, if I’m perceived as a bad friend, an uncaring girlfriend, a slacking employee, I stand to lose the things in my life that are most important to me.  If you could see into my soul, past the layers of anxiety, fear, and sadness, you would see nothing but love.  My actions, however, sometimes tell a different story. 

3.  The people in my life won’t know how much they mean to me.

           

            Very few people know me well enough to see through the veil of anxiety; to not be fooled by the mask of detachment I sometimes wear.  What appears to be indifference is really no such thing.  But I can’t expect people to read my mind.

 

4.  I don’t understand where it came from.

            As far as I know, no one else in my family has struggled with anxiety or depression.  So, if not genetics, then what?  Why have I been dealt the hand of this affliction?  And, while I’ve certainly always been a moody person, and probably suffered from some level of anxiety for most of my life, beginning well before the diagnosis, this whole anxiety thing still feels relatively new.  I actually cringe even using the word, as I feel it’s become overused to the point of almost being cliché.  But, I assure you, it is very real.

 5.  It will never go away.

            The worst part about anxiety is simply the intrusion on my ability to live the life I want to live, the life I feel I deserve.  I can’t handle things I feel as though, as a normal human being, I should be able to handle, and I know that makes no sense to people who can.  But the reality is, I guess I’m not “normal.”  And I’m okay with that part.  I just want to be able to feel emotions without the debilitating aftermath.  I want to be able to endure common stressors without the crippling fear.  I want to be able to show the people I care about that they mean the world to me.  And I want to enjoy life in all of its beautiful, baffling glory.