To my anxiety,
I’m not sure how I can call you that. ‘Mine’. Because most of the time, I don’t feel like you belong to me. I feel as though I belong to you.
I’m not sure why you chose me. But I wish you hadn’t.
I can’t remember when you first appeared, I just know that when you did, it was sudden. It was like my brain chemistry had changed. Something didn’t feel right. Something felt off. And it was you.
Suddenly, you made me terrified of so many things. So many things that before you, I didn’t give a care in the world about. But you changed me.
I turned from an outgoing person into a shell. The loudest person in the room to the quietest. The most motivated, determined person to one who worried that I didn’t deserve anything.
You turned me into a person who questioned everything. Not just about myself, but others too.
You forced my mind to constantly tell me that I wasn’t good enough. That I wasn’t worth anything. That I wasn’t good at my job. That I wasn’t good at my hobbies. That I wasn’t a good friend.
You fill my head with thoughts about whether my friends truly like me, whether my relationships are real, and whether I’m too much work to be loved.
You make me feel like I’m being stared at by everyone in the room, even when nobody’s looking. You choke me up and make me obsess over my words. ‘Did that come across badly?’ ‘Did I say that wrong?’ ‘Did I upset them?’.
You make me feel guilty for things nobody else would feel guilty for. You make me feel like everyone’s watching even when they are paying no attention. You make me feel like when I’m in a crowded room, I am being suffocated. You make me want to leave when the party is only just getting started.
You make the nighttime hard. What used to be an easy process of having a bath and going to bed has turned into checking every lock, that the oven is off and that the plugs are unplugged because I fear for my safety in my own home. You make me scared to be alone at night in case something goes wrong.
You make lay awake overthinking every mistake I’ve made.
Pulling in memories from years ago and bringing them to the forefront of my mind, making me cringe at things I have said and done, when I hadn’t thought about them in years.
You make me pick out my insecurities and worry about what everyone else thinks about me. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to care – but you make me. I now get anxious in certain clothes, worried that I don’t look good enough. Worried that people are laughing at me on the inside, even when they aren’t.
You make me anxious about my life. Obsessing over a future that hasn’t even happened yet. Am I good enough for my job? Will I lose it? What happens when I do? Even though I was totally capable beforehand.
You’ve made me fear for my own health. Every headache could be a brain tumour. Every twinge in my leg a blood clot. Every cough cancer. Little symptoms that I’ve always had become more apparent, more noticeable. And it’s all because of you.
You make my heart race and you cause me to panic. When you overwhelm my head too much I struggle to breathe. The heart palpitations you give me make my chest hurt. The memory loss you cause me fills me with unease.
You consume me and it makes it hard to enjoy my life.
It’s like you’ve stripped all the fun away and filled the emptiness with doubts. Doubts about myself. Doubts about other people. Doubts about what I can achieve in my life.
You make me feel alone. And at times, it’s hard to leave the house. The idea of walking to the shops fills me with dread. I’ve forgotten how many times I have cancelled on friends moments before leaving the house because I just can’t do it. I’ve missed out on so much, so many moments that could have been amazing. So many outings that could have been fun. All because you convinced me that I couldn’t do it.
I’ve tried therapy to help beat you, but you’re insistent on staying. I’ve tried to defeat you with medication, and while sometimes you leave for a little while, you always walk back through the door.
But I am determined to not let you control my life. I am determined to push you out of the door and change the locks.
Because, dear anxiety, I don’t want you anymore. And I don’t want you to have me anymore.
You’ve already done enough damage. You’ve made your point. And I hope I’m making mine.
You won’t be with me forever. We’re going to have to break up from this one-sided relationship eventually. It’s unhealthy, and it can’t go on.
I will not stop trying to rid you from my life. I will not let you consume me like you have for so long.
It might not be now, and it might not be tomorrow, but some day, with my determination, I will make sure you leave.
So don’t get any more comfortable than you already are.