Three Words That Shut Anxiety Up

Three Words That Shut Anxiety Up

By; Abdullah

I used to think anxiety was just worrying too much.

That’s what people told me: "You just overthink."

But overthinking doesn’t feel like your heart’s trying to outrun your chest.

It doesn’t make your stomach churn when your phone buzzes.

It doesn’t convince you that a simple “Hey, can we talk?” means the end of every good thing in your life.

No — anxiety is louder.

It’s a DJ in your brain, spinning the same scratchy record of doubts and disasters on repeat.

---

It was a Thursday evening when my anxiety decided to throw its biggest party yet.

I was supposed to meet my friend, Lila, for coffee.

Simple, right? But my brain wasn’t having it.

> What if you say something awkward? What if she’s mad at you? What if you spill coffee on her? What if she only invited you out to tell you she doesn’t want to be your friend anymore?

By the time I got to the café, my hands were sweaty, my breathing shallow.

The door felt heavier than it should have, like it knew I was carrying a mind full of chaos.

---

Lila waved at me from a corner table, smiling wide.

But instead of seeing her smile, my brain saw a hundred imaginary rejections.

She’s faking it. She’s about to drop bad news. You’re not enough.

We ordered coffee. She started talking about her week, her cat’s new habit of sitting inside the fridge, her failed attempt at baking bread. I laughed — but my laugh was thin. Anxiety kept whispering.

> You’re not really listening. You’re just pretending. You’re going to get caught.

Finally, Lila stopped mid-sentence and looked at me.

“You’re in your head again, aren’t you?”

Busted.

I nodded, embarrassed. “Yeah… I’m just… tired.”

---

Then she said something I’ll never forget.

Three words, said so casually, like she wasn’t about to rewrite the script in my mind.

“You are safe.”

---

It was weird.

At first, those words felt almost too simple.

Like something you’d tell a child afraid of the dark.

But the way she said it — steady, certain — it slipped past my anxious defenses.

For a moment, I stopped thinking about what might go wrong.

For a moment, I noticed the smell of cinnamon from the pastries, the faint hum of the espresso machine, the warmth of my coffee cup in my hands.

---

Later that night, I thought about those three words again.

You are safe.

They weren’t magic. They didn’t erase every fear.

But they created a tiny pause.

Like pressing the mute button on anxiety’s loudest track.

The next day, I tried them on myself.

When I was about to send an email and felt that tightness in my chest —

You are safe.

When I walked into a room full of strangers —

You are safe.

And slowly, something strange started to happen:

My anxiety wasn’t gone, but it didn’t feel like it owned the place anymore.

---

A week later, I told Lila what happened.

“How did you even know to say that?” I asked.

She shrugged. “My therapist used to tell me that. I guess I just passed it along.”

We sat there, sipping coffee again, but this time I noticed everything — the foam on my latte, the sunlight spilling across the table, the fact that I wasn’t panicking.

---

Since then, I’ve shared those three words with other people.

A coworker freaking out before a presentation.

A friend stuck in bed, drowning in overthinking.

Even myself, when I wake up at 3 a.m. and my brain starts listing every possible way tomorrow could go wrong.

---

Anxiety still tries to talk.

It still throws its parties, still spins its scratched records.

But now, I have my own volume control.

Three words.

Simple, soft, steady.

You are safe.

And for me, that’s enough to make the noise stop — at least long enough to hear myself think.

---

If you’re reading this and your anxiety is loud today, try it.

Say it out loud. Whisper it. Write it on a sticky note and slap it on your mirror.

Tell it to your reflection like you’re telling it to a friend.

Because sometimes, the way to shut anxiety up isn’t with big speeches or complicated plans — it’s with the smallest truths, repeated until they feel like home.

---

You are safe.

And you’re not alone.