Anxiety Brain and Me

I’m finally putting into words what anxiety feels like for me.

Sometime in my 20s, I dug up my anxiety and have been trying to bury it ever since. Unsuccessfully so, I might add.

what you don't see is that hours before this photo
was taken, I was an anxious lil cookie.
(PC: John Cassidy)

It has become a project of sorts, something I will stop at nothing to fix. I started therapy. Still anxious. Started praying more. Still anxious. Started back running. And reading. And resting. Still anxious. Tried setting boundaries and saying no. Still anxious. Learned to listen to myself and ask for breaks. I meditated and partied, then realized partying wasn’t the answer, then spent more time laying in the sun listening to music and napping and enjoying nature and, guess what, still anxious. Moved back home (big win!) and I STILL GET ANXIOUS.

Given the number of times I’ve googled anxiety symptoms by now, I should be able to rest assured that I am not alone. Anxiety is common and there is nothing wrong with me. And yet!

My experience doesn't exactly match the google searches. I still haven’t found the article or scientific study or Reddit post that perfectly fits what I feel.

The internet describes incessant worrying and unease that affect your daily functioning. At what point would I characterize my anxiety as affecting my daily functioning? What if my anxiety comes in bursts, when I'm overthinking and alone? How is it possible to feel so anxious at some times and so normal at others?

Here is a nature pic for good vibes.
Portola Valley, California (2021)

These are the questions I haven’t found answers to.

They always say to write the book you’d want to read. So here I go, writing the blog post I haven’t read, instead of depending on the internet to validate my experience.

This is what anxiety feels like for me.

***
For one, my anxiety doesn't come everyday, but when it shows up, it's hard to ignore. Anxiety brain, as I like to call her, is like the devil on my shoulder fighting for my attention when I’m just trying to live my life.

Anxiety brain feeds on my insecurities, amplifies them, and uses them to drown out my gratitude and blessings. She surfs on the waves of my hormones, riding the highs and lows of my moods.

Yosemite, California. (2022)

She creates mountains out of molehills and sends scapegoats out to graze. It’s disgusting, really, the way she tries to sabotage the good things in my life then look for someone or something to blame it on.

Anxiety brain makes me doubt whether I can do this whole live-and-work-and-provide-for-yourself-and-your-family-for-the-rest-of-your-life thing. She tells me that my hard-won coping skills mean nothing because she’ll always find a way to squeeze through.

She sometimes keeps me up at night, sneaking in when I’m most still, eluding me of the peace I desire. Even though I keep telling myself that daily life should not be this hard, she tells me that it is this hard and always will be.

She makes me want to crawl out of my nervous skin, just unzip it like a body suit and step out into fresher air. I try to keep her separate from the rest of me, but she insists on making herself known and at home inside my body. She knots my stomach and knocks at the back of my brain.

Sometimes I feel like I’m going insane with the thoughts that bombard me like incessant thunder. My brain lights up with a nervous firing and firing and firing, neural paths crisscrossing, creating connections that I never asked for and cannot undo.

She imagines worst-case scenarios and rehearses arguments as if she’s preparing for battle. She braces me for a pain I cannot imagine and may never feel. She makes me feel like I’m at war with myself.

She sharpens my senses to the point of overstimulation, then numbs me whole to block it all out. Anxiety brain, she knows no nuance! She’s the reason I feel to throw my phone across a room, when I'm all scrolled out and fed up of being a virtual persona.

Anxiety brain is a fighter. She’s cunning and persistent and opportunistic. She may act like she’s a part of me, but I refuse to accept that I’m an anxious person. Anxiety brain is not me, and I am not her.

So I push back. I rise, I eat, I exercise, I work, I play, I rest, I read, I smile, I laugh, I care, I write, I pray, I sing, I dance, I cry. I revel in the saga of this life, appreciating the highs and accepting the lows. And though my emotions run left, right, up and down, I know that if I look at my life in the bigger picture, I AM OKAY. More than okay; I am HUMAN.

And how wonderfully human it is to experience this life, including my anxiety, in a way that only I could ever express. 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Official Chibird ⭐️ Jacqueline (@chibirdart)