Persistent, excessive, and uncontrollable fear or worry that interferes with daily life, unlike temporary, normal anxiety. This is the definition of an anxiety disorder. To most, this is just a bunch of jumbled words on paper. To me, this is life. This is something I struggle with on a daily basis. Truthfully, I cannot recall a time when I was not fighting a losing battle with my anxiety.
Looking back, I recognize my anxiety did not magically appear overnight. It was always present, even when I was a kid, though at my young age, I was not able to verbalize it. I recall feeling apprehensive in situations that other kids were not bothered by. Small situations, such as raising my hand in class, were overwhelming for me, and I found myself worrying about things long before they even happened. At the time, my anxiety seemed like it was part of my personality, something I would have to quietly work through on my own. After all, I did not witness any of my other classmates struggling in the same ways I did.
I figured this perpetual nervousness was something I would grow out of as I aged, but I have come to realize that these feelings have not disappeared with age. Instead, they have grown more intense and harder to move past. In the past three years, I recognized these anxious thoughts and feelings more often than usual. At school, I find myself afraid of small actions, like dropping my pencil in class, because of my fear of being embarrassed. I catch myself asking “but what will they think of me if…” before I do something.
A pivotal moment in my journey with anxiety was when it began not only disturbing my daily life, but also my passions as well. For example, music. Music and performing had always been my escape from the constant war raging in my mind. A few years ago, right before a big performance, I got sick and lost my voice. After several repeated occurrences of me getting sick and losing my voice right before a big performance, we discovered I was not actually physically ill, but mentally. I was so worried about my performances that I was basically making myself sick, manifesting it into existence. My head convinced me I was sick, so my body followed suit. This was the final straw, the moment I decided I was finished letting anxiety rule my life.
Even after making this decision, the act of overcoming my anxiety was not nearly as simple as the decision to do so. I wish I could say from that moment on, everything changed, but anxiety does not disappear overnight. Some days, I feel like I have control, like the constant buzz of “what if” in my mind is quieting down. Others, it feels just as overwhelming as always. The difference now is I am aware of its existence. Even if I cannot always put my anxious thoughts to rest, I can recognize that they are irrational. This small step has been vital to learning how to take my life back from anxiety, little by little.
As I sit writing this essay, there seems to be a looming cloud of “the future” approaching me, filling me with dread. The uncertainty of the future is scary, and my mind immediately jumps to all the possible ways things could go wrong, but for the first time, I understand that I do not need to have everything figured out right now. Anxiety will always be a part of my life, a voice in the back of my mind whispering doubts and worries, and I have accepted that, but it does not control me. For so long, anxiety has defined my life, but it will not define my future.
