Me and My Anxiety

Anxiety and I have been companions for as long as I can remember. Not the kind that just comes and goes with a stressful day, but the kind that lingers in the background, quietly influencing every thought, every decision, every moment. It's not always loud, but it's always there—like a shadow that never leaves, even on the brightest days.

Growing up, I didn't have a name for it. I thought I was just "too sensitive" or "overthinking everything." I’d get nervous before school presentations, feel uneasy in crowded places, and spend sleepless nights worrying about things that hadn’t even happened yet. I remember being told to “just relax” or “stop worrying so much.” But anxiety isn’t something you can just switch off. It's not a choice—it’s a condition.

As I got older, I began to understand it better. I realized that the tightness in my chest, the racing thoughts, the irrational fears—those weren’t just quirks. They were symptoms. And naming them brought a strange kind of relief. It wasn’t just me being dramatic or weak; it was anxiety, and it was real.

Living with anxiety feels like walking a tightrope. Some days I can balance just fine, managing my responsibilities, smiling, laughing, even thriving. But other days, I wobble. The simplest things feel overwhelming—replying to a message, making a phone call, leaving the house. My mind spins with “what ifs” and worst-case scenarios. It's exhausting, both mentally and physically.

But here's what I've learned: anxiety is not the enemy. It's a part of me, yes, but it's not all of me. Over time, I’ve started to see it as something I can learn to live with, not fight against. That shift in perspective changed everything.

Therapy has been one of the most helpful tools in this journey. Talking to someone who understands, who doesn’t judge, and who can offer real strategies to cope—it made me feel less alone. I began to challenge my anxious thoughts instead of accepting them as truth. I started recognizing the triggers and developing ways to manage them. Breathing exercises, journaling, grounding techniques—small steps that help me reclaim control.

I've also learned the importance of self-compassion. There are days when I feel like I’m failing because I’m anxious again. But I remind myself: healing isn’t linear. Some days are harder than others, and that’s okay. I no longer beat myself up for feeling anxious. Instead, I try to treat myself with the same kindness I would offer a friend.

It also helps to talk about it. For a long time, I kept my anxiety hidden, worried that people would see me differently. But opening up—whether to friends, family, or even strangers—brought unexpected support. So many people struggle silently, and sharing my story has helped me connect with others and remind them that they’re not alone.

There’s still a stigma around mental health, but I believe it’s getting better. More people are speaking out, and that’s powerful. Anxiety isn’t weakness. In fact, living with it and continuing to show up every day takes a strength that’s often invisible. I see that now.

To anyone else who battles anxiety: I see you. I know the invisible war you fight every day. And I want you to know that you're not broken. You’re human. You’re trying. And that’s enough.

Me and my anxiety—we're still walking this path together. Some days are heavy, and some are light. But through it all, I’ve found resilience I never knew I had. Anxiety may be a part of my story, but it doesn’t get to write the ending.