What anxiety feels like

(for me)

I’ve been having a pretty rough year with myself (2016 more so) as things have changed drastically after moving from home, finding a secure relationship and living independently. After the distraction of moving was over last year in May, I realised that even though everything around me was what I wanted and worked for – I was still producing negativity where I could because of the way I had grown up and learnt to think and behave. This year has been the hardest ever in terms of my emotions but also kind of a breakthrough as I’m realising things about myself that I never had. The following entry is from when I was in the midst of anxious thinking, and I wanted to try and communicate what it was like in second person. Maybe you can relate and find solace that you are part of an entire network of battlers who are, yes, each to their own in their suffering, but could all probably relate on some level. And relation and connection is what people mostly seek, especially in a time of suffering.


The basis of the battle is fear and guilt. The anticipation of absolutely everything you could possibly pick out (but the picking out is not consciously intentional) and never feeling right about any situation or thinking of how it could have been better (even if it were close to perfect). The frustration of this process is beyond anyone’s comprehension outside of your own box. The box appears as if it were fabricated by the individual in it, and that it continues to grow larger with each vulnerable day or moment. There is panic there – panic at how much is being added to the already committed damage that would take what seems like a lifetime to undo. There is guilt at how much the feeling arises and how quickly it can dissipate – paranoia about the actual validity of your emotion and how significant it is to those closest to you. The difficulty of decoding things down to the way someone might be breathing and how that could communicate what they’re thinking (since what they think seems to make up who you are or can be at the time). The more intense difficulty of not wanting any of this but it happens anyway. There is hate and anger that comes quickly and ruthlessly for those who fail to understand or don’t go the extra mile (but reality is not many people will go the ‘extra mile’ unless you have for them only in materialistic or physical ways) and it causes humanity to seem repulsive. There is a need to reach out and confide in close connections, but half the battle is doubting the connections you have – since you’re running on high sensitivity most days, you annoyingly search for the evidence of their lack of care and always find it (because you have gotten so good at doing so). There is anticipation of responsibility where you have to appear as a capable human when you’re required, and even though you are entirely capable, your whole existence is telling you that you should run, hide or disappear. There is disgust at the viewpoints of those who came along early in battle and lack relativity now to what you’re seemingly screaming in their faces. There is sadness at that for the loss of what was long familiar but a desperate need to move on from it. The consequences you suffer from the emotional strain traps you again in an even tighter box as your body tells you it’s not happy because of your head. You go to your head to ask the same question and it leads you back to your body. A dead end disease.


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