I'm Not Scared to Talk About My Anxiety Anymore
I have a friend who visits me sometimes. He often just drops in unannounced. Sometimes he stays way longer than he is welcome.
He doesn’t bring anything except fear and worry.
When he’s around, I feel like I’m just treading water.
I ask him politely to leave, but he hangs around, waiting to drag me down.
I make him a hot drink, but it’s never got enough milk. I bake something, and he tells me all the ways I could have done it better.
He brings the world news with him and explains all the reasons why I should be scared.
I would hide him from people and delete his messages, but he would always find a way to get to me, and he always uses the disappointed emojis.
He’s a hell of a guy, that Anxiety. And I hear it’s not just me he visits either.
Anxiety is a weight in the pit of your stomach, a million tiny little things you worry about and can’t get out of your mind. It keeps you awake; it knocks the wind out of you. Being a parent with anxiety means there are extra things around you to make you equally scared and worried. Everywhere you look. Sometimes I felt I was “crazy,” the amount I’d worry and lie awake at night waiting for something bad to happen. But I’m not. And you’re not either.
We don’t talk about it enough. We hate burdening people with our problems, as mothers, sisters, friends and daughters, so we bottle it up. We don’t want people to think we can’t cope, so we hide that Anxiety guy away in our cupboards. But he always finds a way.
I’ve realized I’m not scared to talk about it anymore. I want people to know they’re not alone. She could be your neighbor or the checkout girl at the supermarket or the mailman. Anxiety doesn’t define you — it’s just a part of your journey, and it’s nothing to feel ashamed about. It’s unfortunately more common than you might think.
So together, let’s stand up to Anxiety, that lying bastard. We are stronger and bigger than him.
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