A for Anxiety

Not much makes me feel happy these days, and I’m finding it hard to find enjoyment in literally anything at all that I attempt to do. Writing these little blog posts helps me clear my head at least a little, so let’s talk about the big, annoying, dumb “A” word today – anxiety.

I honestly can’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t anxious. I was a shy kid. I was the “quiet kid who read a lot” in school, an easy target for a lot of people I saw on a daily basis. I never had a ton of friends, and the ones I did have weren’t real, as I was a target for them too. Dealing with family issues on top of that overwhelming sense of nervousness and feeling alone at all times was a lot for any preteen to take on. Looking back, I should’ve talked to someone sooner. Maybe there would have been a way to ease my anxiety so it isn’t the huge issue it is in my life, current day.

I’m going to try to be completely open and honest here, because way too many people glorify it. Anxiety isn’t just being nervous to talk to strangers or make a phone call. That’s definitely a part of it, but not all. I’ve had days where all I have been able to do is curl up in my bed and cry. I’ve had days where, before hanging out with people I call my friends, really close friends at that, I’ve thrown up multiple times due to sheer nervousness. Terrible nausea before every big event in my life, whether it be a job interview, a date, going back to school after a holiday, whatever it was – I spent the night before worrying about every possible thing that could go wrong. I do that for everything. I will think of the worst possible outcome, down to walking into the dollar store in my hometown and getting murdered. And the worst part is, I know I’m being dramatic and I know that it probably won’t happen, but that doesn’t stop my brain from telling me that something bad is going to happen. Take today for example: I had an interview for a job that I know I would have gotten if I had gone. I sat in my bed for an hour, doubled over with nausea, before emailing them and saying I wouldn’t be coming because of a family emergency. And then, spent the next four hours sobbing, telling myself how stupid I was for not being able to go to what would have probably been a twenty minute interview. Even typing this out and thinking back on it, immediately tears come to my eyes and I start feeling dumb again.

I walk into grocery stores and think that every single person is staring at me and commenting on how stupid I look. I miss out on countless opportunities because, instead of thinking about the amazing time that could be had, I think about every single possible bad outcome that might happen instead, and then talk myself out of going. Every single phone call I ever make, whether it’s a five minute phone call to a friend to ask a question or a thirty minute long phone interview, ends in a puddle of sweat because I’m so nervous I can’t think straight. I literally don’t allow myself to think about my future – marriage, kids, a future job, a future home, because I will think about all of the things currently wrong in my life, and how I will never reach that point with anyone. Anxiety manifests in a lot of ways, and for me, apart from the awful sickness that comes with anything that happens to me ever, it’s anger. Extreme anger, lashing out at my friends just because I’m upset with myself, screaming, literally seeing red. And it makes me so upset, truly, because I didn’t ask to be like this. All I have ever wanted was to be the happy and social girl who has tons of friends and never has to worry about what she is saying or how she is coming off. A girl who doesn’t overthink every single fucking thing that comes out of her mouth, down to the way she says hello to the cashier at Target. Someone who doesn’t have the sick power to sit alone in her room and somehow convince herself that no one likes her and every single person in her life who claims to love and appreciate her is lying, and that it is all some sort of sick game.

There’s no point to this post, honestly. It just makes me feel awful that I probably have to deal with this and feel this way for the rest of my life, for every major thing that ever happens to me. I’m so sick of feeling crappy, and feeling like an inconvenience to everyone in my life, even though I am told every day that I’m not. Don’t glorify anxiety as being something cute and quirky, because I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

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