Anxiety is one of the most frustrating things I’ve ever dealt with or experience. It isn’t rational or logical. It’s not some negative way of thinking or a product of an overly stressful lifestyle.
It’s all in your head.
There’s nothing to worry about.
Snap out of it.
I know how trivial it seems. I am fucking breathing. I know I’m not really dying. I know there’s no reason for me to be scared of. That’s what’s frustrating. So I get frustrated about being anxious, which feeds into more anxiety. It’s a vicious cycle I can barely control. No matter how many times you walk yourself through a problem and tell yourself the rational solution, the stress won’t go away. There is no ‘don’t worry about it’. I there is no real reason to worry. It’s a feeling, not a thought.
It’s exhausting living like that, knowing that what your brain is doing to itself is pointless, endless. Half the time, I can’t tell someone why I’m anxious. I just am. There are days I can’t get out of bed – there’s no thinking about why I won’t, just a feeling that can’t. I feel the anxiety sitting in my chest, squeezing out my energy, sucking my motivation dry.
I think that’s the side of anxiety that people don’t always think about. They picture the panic, the freak out, the terror. No one thinks about the constant shadow you live with. The shadow that whispers all the ‘what if’s in your ears. The shadow that hides your motivation and silences your courage.
Anxiety isn’t all panic and fear. It’s exhaustion and frustration. It’s repetitive. It’s lonely.