How Anxiety Makes Me Believe No One Will Ever Understand Me
They don’t understand you, and they never will, my anxiety taunts, pushing me away from the ones I hold dear, forcing me into isolation as I cry over my perceived defects. No matter how hard I try to fight it, my anxiety makes me believe that no one, not even the friends who seek to know me fully, will ever understand me.
My anxiety breathes down the back of my neck, spewing lies and self-hatred. It convinces me that I am alone in my thoughts and actions, that I am impossibly defective, too different to be understood. It screams that if I lead with authenticity, baring my soul for the world to see, my experiences won’t resonate, my loved ones will turn away from me, my friends will scatter. It persuades me that I am an anomaly, an outcast in a world of conformity, a woman with a life too heart-wrenchingly complicated for anyone to understand.
My anxiety pushes me into a world of loneliness, forcing me to live without my friends’ kind words and loving arms. It sways me to believe that in my isolation, I will never face misunderstanding, rejection, or abandonment. It traps me, convincing me it is the only force in the world that knows my heart. It leaves me stuck in a haze of paranoia as I bend to the conviction that even those closest to me will leave when I become too emotional, too raw, too complex to handle.
My anxiety clings to every misunderstanding, every fading relationship, everyone who’s left my life in search of easier, less stressful, more comprehensible. It forces me to believe everyone will hurt me, that no one will delve into my story and understand it wholeheartedly. It places my past in the forefront of my mind, allowing those who’ve walked away to shape my future as I close off, backing away from the loved ones who’ve shown me nothing but empathy. It prevents me from forging new connections, constantly reminding me that no one will ever understand all that I’ve been through, pressuring me to never try again.
My anxiety twists my perception, compelling me to believe that no one will ever understand all I’ve been through. But every time I take back my power, every time I see glimmers of acceptance and empathy, I release the grip anxiety holds on my life. My anxiety makes me believe that no one will ever understand me, but every time I fight my own mind, I have hope that my loved ones will embrace my struggles and stay.
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