Anxiety isn’t a one size fits all, it isn’t consistent and it isn’t always easy to explain.
Anxiety is constantly lurking around and often has me in a chokehold. I can’t breathe. I can’t formulate my thoughts. In the thick of a panic attack, I need air and space.
Anxiety is exhausting. It’s why I’m always tired. This is true even on days when I don’t have panic attacks. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t get lost in my swirling thoughts, if only for a moment. I think about everything. I think about what needs to be done, what I’ve been procrastinating on, all our responsibilities, our appointments, homework, etc. My thoughts usually jump to the worst-case scenario. I worry that something will go wrong, our children will get kidnapped, raped, murdered, fall and hurt themselves. I worry about getting into a car accident, job loss, our finances, everyone health and happiness.
I sometimes need to share it with my husband, otherwise, my head will explode with panic. Like it did the other night when I burst into tears and couldn’t breathe just as we were getting ready to go to bed. It felt like someone was crushing my chest. I couldn’t get free.
I also see that this is tough on my loved ones. I understand that it’s tough to see me hurt. I constantly worry about how my anxiety is affecting my family. I feel terribly guilty about it.
Anxiety is heartbreaking.
I wish I could just feel free, to be able to truly relax, to be happy without feeling the shadow of anxiety lurking beneath. I wish I knew what it feels like to be carefree and not a prisoner to this ugly illness. Free of the voice that follows me listing all her insecurities.