image of grungy alley with garbage and no parking sign

Yesterday I hit a garbage truck. In New York City.

It was early in the morning, and I was on my way to an appointment with my therapist. Parking in the city is a pain, so I was relieved to spot an empty space that did not include a fire hydrant. Problem: it was blocked by a garbage truck. I managed to pull in front of the garbage truck and squeeze my way into the spot. Bad angle, but I was in. I figured I could fix myself when the truck moved on – if it would just move.

Next thing I know, there’s a knock on my window. Now what?

“Hey, you’re blocking the trash with your car.”

Omg, my day just started and I’m already pissed. I figured I was at a bad angle anyway so I would pull out so they can get the trash and then pull back in.

“OK,” I said (calmly). “I can pull out so you guys can get the trash.”

Out I go. Thing is, with two lanes on my side of the street, the garbage truck pulls beside me to retrieve the trash. Mission accomplished: trash retrieved. Put my car into reverse and began to pull back into my coveted spot. Unsuccessfully, of course. Here’s what happened next: crash. And then: crap, I hit the garbage truck. And then: omg omg omg omg. Anxiety skyrockets to 10 and I am gathering myself to fall apart.

Then came the garbage man. The garbage man without a name who literally restored my faith in all of humanity with his kind words and smile. He stayed with me and helped me park. He directed me into and out of the spot multiple times as I was so flustered and anxious I kept on overshooting my mark. He also fixed my car because I had apparently only unhooked the bumper, so he put it back for me. Then he gave me a pep talk about remaining calm and told me I should try not to get ruffled, so I won’t make mistakes. He told me that “slowly is quickly” and I shouldn’t feel pressured. He told me to focus on the task at hand and do it until I get it right. He told me I was going to be OK and that it was fine, I didn’t even need to fix my car because it wasn’t damaged. It was all I could do not to break down in front of him.

So, Mr. Garbage Man — though I do not know your name and you don’t know mine, know you have made a difference in my life. Know that on the streets of NYC, alongside the curb full of trash, you have imparted wisdom and lessons for life I will not soon forget. Know that in the midst of what could have been a complete catastrophe, you were my calm and support. Thank you with all my heart. You were a small window of my day, but you and your words have remained a part of my life. You have no idea what you did for me.

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Thinkstock photo via mrdoomits


We may think we know what anxiety looks like (shaking hands, shallow breaths) and what it sounds like (“I can’t do this. What if I can’t do it. What if?…What if?…), but what does anxiety feel like? Often, we focus so much on the racing thoughts and emotions that come with anxiety, we forget to recognize how physical anxiety can be. In fact, you can feel physical effects of anxiety without even realizing it’s anxiety that’s causing it.

To learn some of the ways anxiety not only affects your mind — but your body — we asked people in our mental health community to describe what physical symptoms of anxiety they deal with, and what they feel like.

Here’s what they shared with us:

1. “When I get into high anxiety, sometimes out of nowhere, I get GI [gastrointestinal] symptoms. Constantly going to the bathroom. I have cramps and abdominal pain. It’s tough because there is nothing I can do but just try to wait it out.” — Michele P.

2. “Does anyone else find themselves antsy after a big panic attack where you can barely sit still and then for the next couple days, you’re completely mentally/physically exhausted? I feel like everything is just too much and I can’t move.” — Kristen G.

3. “It starts with my heart racing… so fast I can hardly breathe. Then the nausea. It is unrelenting. The nausea makes my anxiety worse which makes my heart race, which makes me more nauseous. It’s all a vicious cycle, and it is so hard to escape.” — Rachael J.

4. “In the aftermath of a panic attack, I often feel bone-chillingly cold. It doesn’t matter what time of year it is, and no jacket or blanket helps. I just have to ride it out until it goes away.” — Monica M.

5. “My back is in tremendous pain, and every time I have attacks, I suddenly feel my back harden and new knots appear. I have been trying to go to massage therapy and other treatments, but nothing really seems to work.” — Alexandra C.

6. “Heart palpitations. Every night for over a year my heart wouldn’t let me sleep. As soon as I lay down and my body was relaxed, my heart would start pounding hard enough to shake my whole body. I was convinced I had a horrible fatal heart condition, but after a few tests, my doctor told me it was only a symptom of my anxiety disorder.” — Heather D.

7. “I start itching, picking at my scalp or under my finger nails. I sometimes look pale (more so than normal, that is) and seem slightly dazed. Of course nausea and sweating, as well. Sometimes it also feels like my tongue is swollen and I can barely speak.” — Alexa K.

8. “When my anxiety is triggered, my diaphragm turns to iron — I can’t relax it to take deep breaths, and sometimes I can’t even breathe at all. I end up taking shallow breaths and unconsciously holding them for as long as I can.” — Amber W.

9. “Sometimes, when under an extreme amount of stress/anxiety I get physically sick because my body is overdosing me with adrenaline. It’s happened in public a few times for me, and it’s humiliating. I heard someone call me a ‘hungover wreck’ before when actually I was just severely over-stressed.” — Conor L.

10. “I have constant heart palpitations. My resting heart rate is always in the 90s because I’m on constant high alert, even if I’m laying in bed. Then there’s the stomach aches, the headaches, constant muscle tension. Any wrong movement, I pull a muscle in my neck or back.” — Amber B.

11. “Chest pains that feel like I’m having a heart attack. My anxiety causes so much pain throughout my body, people think I constantly have the flu. I can’t believe how speechless I get and start mumbling. What surprises me is how much ice cream and a cold compress helps; it slows down my heart rate and calms me down.” — Christina P/

12. “Tense muscles in the back of my neck, stomach issues and feeling nauseous a lot, gritting my teeth subconsciously, feeling ‘heavy’ and tired, my heart beats fast and I partially dissociate when I’m extremely nervous. Also, I feel very shaky whenever I’m worked up, and I feel as if I can’t see straight (probably sensory overload).” — Elizabeth E.

13. “When I begin having an attack I get light headed and dizzy. I almost pass out. My breathing increases and my heart rate jumps up. It sucks. A lot. Especially when I’m in like the grocery store.” — Hannah Y.

14. “Depends on the type of anxiety for me. Usually starts with my body temperature rising, then I start to sweat. Heart starts beating faster and harder. It’s just racing,feels like it’s going to alien out of chest. My vision starts to get blurry. Turns into tunnel vision. Sounds all around me seem to be swallowing me up. I can’t focus on anything, especially my own thoughts. My hands start to shake and I want to scream at everyone.” — Kit K.

15. “Getting extremely hyper while having muscle spasms and joint pain. Then getting hit with a migraine and it’s hard to hear anything over my heartbeat, then finally getting cardiac symptoms(crushing feeling on my chest, inability to breath properly, arms going numb) that make everyone around me think I’m having a heart attack. Also major jaw pain due to clenching the majority of the time and grinding my teeth in my sleep.” — Cait L.

16. “Apart from the elevating heartbeat and the sick feeling in my stomach, I stammer. I am no longer in control of my speech pattern, I speak so fast I can’t catch my breath, my tongue somehow feels like it’s being twisted. What comes out of my mouth during anxiety is mostly a combination of gibberish and unintelligible sounds.” — Phượng N.


17. “My voice goes very raspy and strained… It’s a very odd symptom but happens nearly every single time I leave the house or talk to people on the phone, etc.” — Sarah G.

18. “Horrible and very vivid nightmares. Once my anxiety was under control I finally stopped having them. Plus nail biting, scalp picking, twitches, shaking, not being able to breathe, etc. It’s hell.” — Emily B.

19. “Dizziness, nausea, headaches, racing heart, upset stomach but recently I’ve noticed when I’m in full blown panic mode my gums bleed…very recent new symptom to add to the really crappy list…” — Claire A.

20.My boyfriend and I both have anxiety (him newly diagnosed and I’ve had it for my whole life), and when I get really anxious and hot my whole body breaks out in a red and incredibly itchy/painful rash that can only be remedied by trying to cool myself down and wait it out. He on the other hand gets these patches of what looks like dragon skin when he has high anxiety that he says is very itchy.” — Malia R.

21. “Full-body rage. High blood pressure followed by a sense of being completely drained. The feeling that your body is going to explode from inside out. And the feeling of hopelessness from not being able to ‘check’ myself/yourself.” — Courtney B.

22.Back pain, I tense my back without realizing I’m doing it and I can’t stop it when I start cause I don’t know how I do it in the first place. The pains there ’til the anxiety has subsided.” — Samantha S.

23. “I shut down. I can’t think. I forget where I’m going or what I’m doing. I just fall asleep. I had myself tested for narcolepsy simply because I wasn’t putting anxiety and my sudden urge to sleep together.” — Candice L.

24. “Nausea, uncontrollable shaking, rapid heartbeat, sweaty palms, hot/cold flashes, muscle tension, jaw clenching, and I startle very easy. These symptoms, combined with an onslaught of detrimental thoughts, create a perpetual cycle of uselessness, fear and panic. It’s exhausting.” — Persephone A.

The signs have always been there.  Though not as eye catching as a neon sign or obvious as a billboard, I suppose there have always been signs.

The signs are usually only noticeable to those who know me well — really well. It may be as innocent as a click, click of my nails as they flick against each other, or the way I hold my hands and slowly wring them — oh so slowly, so as not to be obvious. Internally though, my heart is beating anything but slowly and sometimes, it feels as though it skips a beat and causes me to lose my breath. Internally, I begin sweating so profusely I could and will soak my shirt. I try and take deep breaths because it feels like I have none left.

Outside, I smile and laugh it off. The perfect poker face. As long as I smile, no one knows what is going on inside. Make eye contact, nod reassuringly and everyone believes I am fine.

Behind my smile my mind races down every possible worst scenario in any given situation. I push these thoughts by keeping busy. I never say no. Keeping busy means I won’t be left alone to think.

Outside, others see a perfectionist. An overachiever. A person who seems so put together. I smile again, remembering it’s the the perfect poker face, and their words serve to persuade me, they are in fact, true.

When I’m alone though, it all creeps back in. Like a shadow crawling up my back, I start to feel fear, uncertainty and that’s when I know….

I struggle with anxiety.

I’ve never said those four words before. “I struggle with anxiety.” I don’t like them, and yet I feel relief from writing it down. Maybe those four words will set me free.

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Unsplash photo via Allef Vinicius.

It was one of those days where the anxiety takes control — the days when I can barely breathe at all; where I feel dizzy and nauseous; where every muscle is tensed to almost breaking point, and I’m fighting all of them to prevent visible shaking. But it’s not just physical. I’m fighting my own mind, simultaneously telling myself I can’t do this, I’m not worthy, nobody likes me, I’m in everybody’s way, and that I have to do this, I have to make it through the day, do my job. I can’t let everyone down.

Ordinarily, I keep these days to myself. I hate the idea of burdening someone with the insignificant struggles in my life. People have more important things going on in their lives, more pressing issues, their own challenges. But this day, I really needed you. I needed to reach out. I needed someone to know what was going on, just in case I couldn’t make it through the day. So, I did something I’d never done before. I sent you a text and told you how I was feeling and where I’d be if I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. I also asked you not to read the message unless something like that did happen. You ignored that and, honestly, I’m glad you did.

I paced around the room in every class I taught that day. I rocked myself in every meeting and took copious notes as a way of channeling the anxiety. When I wasn’t typing, I fidgeted with the hairband on my wrist or a pen. I could hardly think; hardly breathe; hardly be.

But, you were there and you helped me through it. More than you realize, you got me through this day, and you help me through countless others. You quietly checked in with me, asked if I was OK, and asked again when I said that I was, but you could tell I wasn’t. You looked at me with support and belief, never pity or disdain. Later, you messaged me to check I was OK.

The way you respond to my anxiety simultaneously confuses me and has me in awe. Every time I’m breaking down, you tell me it’s OK — that I don’t need to apologize for being human, for having struggles. You tell me you’re here, that you care, that my anxiety isn’t all that I am — that I’m making a difference for others in the work we do. You call out my anxiety in exactly the right way when I’m giving in to its darkness and mentally attacking myself.

You’ve said a million things which I try to cling to in my most difficult moments, even though my anxiety tries to tell me you can’t possibly mean them. But this day, in particular, you sent me a message that I really needed to hear.

You told me you think I’m strong.

The constant mental battles, fighting the physical symptoms, the lack of sleep and resultant exhaustion, spending every day scared of everything, the always present and uncomfortably fast heart rate pounding in my ears … It makes me feel weak. And I’ve heard it from other people, too. They think I’m being weak or pathetic or overdramatic, or a million other things I’m not trying to be.

But not you. And, as grateful as I was, I couldn’t understand how you weren’t making me feel that way, too. Then you said you thought I was strong, and I don’t think you’d lie to me. I don’t always feel strong, but it matters to me that you think I am, especially when I’m sharing my weakest moments with you. So, in my darkest moments, I’m learning to cling to your voice, to the things you say to me, to the way you see me. I’m using your messages to try to battle the voice in my mind that tells me I’m weak, that I’m irritating everyone, that nobody cares.

Thank you for helping me find a way to light the darkness in this daily battle.

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Thinkstock photo via DragonImages

I’ve been anxious my entire life. But I’ve been a wife for almost a year. Even before I got married, I had this feeling of not being enough. Because in my mind, anxiety told me he would only stay by my side if I were more beautiful, smarter and sexier, and that above all, I should be happier or at least pretend to be. Because no one likes sad and insecure people, right? But I recognize my luck, more than before, for still having him loving and caring and supporting me all the time. So why do I still hear what my anxiety says and all the bad things it makes me feel?

The answer is simple but tough to accept. Because deep down I know I am not like my anxiety and the lies it tells me. I know this, mainly, because this anxiety is not mine. All that is mine is this perception, this consciousness of truth. It is important to be able to separate what is mine and what generates from anxiety.

Even when I know what matters, I keep hearing those voices and believing them sometimes. There are several nights when I wake up thinking I am not a good wife and do not have what it takes to keep my marriage stable — also that I am not enough to satisfy my husband. So, I feel weak, nervous and powerless to do anything, thus leaving a void in our relationship. I end up fulfilling all my fears, and in this way, I fail not only as a woman to him but as a person to me. All I do at these times is apologize and cry.

But I am a human being, like everyone. I have many faults, and I am far from perfect. I’m a good wife and friend. I worry about what he needs, what he feels, what he wants, and I try to provide everything necessary for him to feel happy. I hear his fears and longings even when I am distressed and my soul is hurt. I often put him on top of everything when I need to be the priority. If this is not being a good wife, then I do not know what is necessary for me to be one. Everything in relationships needs to remain in reciprocal values. When things are in constant balance we get a taste of perfection.

At this point, I try to believe in myself, even though it seems impossible sometimes. I pray every day that this mental disorder won’t be my ruin and that I can always try to overcome myself day after day. May the tears disappear, and if it is not so simple, may I may be strong enough to accept my condition and let the tears fall without guilt. That “I’m sorry” won’t be the only thing I can say. My husband accepts me as I am, and he always says it’s OK not to be OK. So, there is no reason for me to think differently and prefer to isolate myself from the world when I have someone who values me and wants to help me. The secret is to look within ourselves, listen to our hearts and know that what is in our mind is not always the absolute truth.

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Thinkstock photo by ravald

Growing up, I always thought I was just a shy person. I was afraid to talk to strangers, or any kind of adult figure. Teachers, cashiers, even older relatives who I didn’t see often. But in reality, “shy” truly wasn’t the word for it.

I never really knew what being anxious meant; I didn’t know it was a condition you could have. I just thought it was a feeling and always associated it with being nervous. And being nervous, in my head at least, equated to being shy. The thing is though, I had a lot of friends when I was a kid. Definitely not now, though. I doubt I ever initiated the friendships I did have as a kid, but still.

As I got older and started college in the fall of 2014, I realized my symptoms were more than just shyness. For example, walking to the front of class to turn in a paper? Forget it. I could not be the first person to get up in front of the class; just thinking about it even now makes me feel like my chest is going to explode. Presentations? You’re funny. Never gonna happen, unless my entire GPA depends on it.

Living like that all through school, I looked into it and realized those were all symptoms of anxiety. Add in my nail and skin biting, how easy it is for my face to flush red when talking to anyone, being afraid to ask for anything at a restaurant, my fear of driving in new places, or even just driving at night. I also used to have a couple of compulsive behaviors that took me years to “grow out of.” For instance, if I touched something with my ring finger, I had to make sure I touched it with the same finger of my other hand. I never told anyone about it, and I didn’t realize it could mean something more serious was going on. I just thought it meant I was a bit “weird.”

I’ve also never been able to initiate conversations with anyone I don’t know without feeling like my whole world is spinning, and the entire time I just keep wondering if they’re judging me. Which also confuses me, because I’m usually the person who doesn’t care what people think. I do what I want, and I can be a very blunt person. But when it comes to strangers, I just always feel so insecure.

Anxiety is not just constant worrying like I grew up believing it to be. It’s feeling like something bad is inevitably going to happen to you without having any reason to think that way. It’s wondering if your best friend didn’t answer your text because they’re mad at you, even though you know she probably is just busy. It’s believing you’re not good enough to chase your dreams, and you’ll never find love because everyone hates you. Or because you’re ugly and no one has the heart to tell you. It’s about feeling a weight on your chest and your shoulders and just being so tired — tired of your mind racing, tired of doubting yourself. Just being so tired.

Anxiety takes so much out of me some weeks that I just go to work, come home and chill on the couch. I won’t even really answer texts or go on social media — nothing. I just lie there, watch tv, maybe try to nap. But napping just makes me more tired, makes my mind race more with what-ifs.

I’ve never been to a doctor to see if I truly have an anxiety disorder, but I’m fairly positive I do. I want to go to a doctor to see what they say, but for some reason, I am so scared to tell my parents. I feel like I’ll just be judged, or they’ll tell me to just “suck it up.” Well, I have just been pushing on my whole life. For once, I just wanna feel OK.

I want to be able to have a conversation with a customer at work (side note: I am a cashier at a grocery store) and not feel like I might throw up at any moment. I’m tired of feeling so drained after having to interact in any kind of social environment. I just want to be me, all the time, in any situation. I want to finally, for once in my life, be free. Who knows if I’ll ever be able to truly live and let go, but hey, I’m gonna try.

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