The Invisible Weight of Anxiety

By: Nadeem Shah

Anxiety isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s not the shaking hands, the racing heart, or the heavy breathing you see in movies. Sometimes it’s a quiet, constant hum in the back of your mind—a relentless narrator that never shuts up.

For me, anxiety feels like carrying an invisible weight. No one else can see it, and yet it shapes every step I take. From the outside, I appear fine—calm, composed, maybe even confident. But inside? Inside is a different story.

It starts before I even open my eyes.

Morning sunlight peeks through the blinds, and my mind is already awake—running laps before my body even catches up.

Did I send that email? What if I forgot? What if my boss thinks I’m careless? Should I check my phone? No, don’t check your phone—what if there’s bad news? What if…

This is before my feet even touch the floor.

Anxiety Is a Constant Companion

Some people think anxiety is occasional—a sudden burst of nervousness before a big presentation or a social event. And sure, it can be that. But for many of us, it’s a constant companion, one that follows us into every interaction, every decision, every single day.

It’s not just worrying about the future. It’s dissecting the past—replaying every conversation, every choice, and asking myself a thousand times if I could have done it differently, better, smarter.

A friend once told me, “You think too much.” I wanted to laugh.

If only I could turn it off, I thought. If only thinking was a choice.

The Hidden Exhaustion

Living with anxiety isn’t just emotionally draining—it’s physically exhausting. My shoulders ache from tension I didn’t realize I was holding. My jaw tightens without me noticing until I finally unclench it and feel the soreness.

The worst part? You learn to mask it. You smile at work, make small talk with strangers, and nod along during conversations—even as your mind is frantically juggling a dozen “what if” scenarios.

You become so good at pretending you’re okay that sometimes you almost believe it yourself. Almost.

The Stigma of “Overreacting”

There’s an unspoken shame that comes with anxiety. The fear that others will think you’re dramatic, sensitive, or overreacting. So you stay quiet. You tell yourself to just “get over it.”

But anxiety isn’t something you can outthink. It isn’t about logic—it’s about survival. My brain isn’t trying to ruin my life; it’s trying to protect me. It’s scanning for danger the way smoke alarms scan for fire.

The problem is, my smoke alarm goes off for burnt toast.

Learning to Live With It

I used to think the goal was to “beat” anxiety, to make it go away forever. But I’ve learned that it’s more about learning to live alongside it—without letting it control me.

For me, that’s meant slowing down enough to notice my thoughts instead of getting swept away by them. It’s meant therapy, journaling, and sometimes just breathing deeply for a few minutes when the noise gets too loud.

And perhaps most importantly, it’s meant talking about it—out loud, with people I trust. There’s a strange kind of freedom in saying, “Hey, my brain is overreacting right now, and I just need a moment.”

A New Kind of Strength

Anxiety has taught me something unexpected: that vulnerability is its own kind of strength. For so long, I thought being “strong” meant hiding my struggles. But real strength is saying, “I’m not okay right now,” and letting others see the cracks.

Because when we share the invisible weight we carry, we realize we’re not as alone as we thought.

Author’s Note:

If you live with anxiety, you’re not weak. You’re not broken. You’re carrying a weight that most people can’t see, and the fact that you keep moving forward—one step at a time—is proof of your resilience. You are enough, exactly as you are.