Anxiety is an ever-present feeling of dread, a relentless whirlwind of negative emotions. It’s a dark shadow that hovers over you, feeding your fears and making you question everything. Anxiety alters your personality, affects your mood, and can even make you physically ill. It can manifest as a rash, play tricks on your mind, and prematurely age you. Anxiety can be so overwhelming that it freezes you in the moment, consumed by “what if” or “why.” It turns you into a robot, dictating your every move, even how you plan your walks. Anxiety convinces you that everyone is watching and judging, leaving you feeling worthless.
Over time, anxiety can become so ingrained that you either learn to live with it or reach a breaking point. It’s not your friend; it’s a cruel, insidious force that drives you to bite your nails, overeat, seek comfort in sex, and constantly scrutinize yourself. It pushes you to spend money impulsively, convincing you that luxury goods can offer some relief. Anxiety isn’t just about waiting for the next paycheck—it’s about finding a way to get what you want now, regardless of the cost.
The idea of treating anxiety can seem overwhelming, especially when you know it requires a deep journey of self-discovery. It’s all too easy to fall into the trap of thinking anxiety isn’t a big deal, but its grip is powerful and persistent.
I’ve struggled with anxiety for as long as I can remember—there’s a reason I was always called a worrier. My recovery is a crucial part of my life journey, and looking back, I now see that I turned to drugs to suppress and numb my emotions. I didn’t realize it at the time, but my addiction was rooted in fear—fear of failure, not being accepted, feeling different, not being good enough, and lacking self-esteem. Anxiety has been such a pervasive force in my life that it’s one of the main reasons I’ve never truly felt happy.
This year, I’ve learned so much about myself, life, and more. I’m grateful for my recovery journey because, for the first time, I can truly acknowledge my anxiety. And to my anxiety, I say: fuck off. Today marks 32 days in recovery, and I’m determined that anxiety will no longer ruin my life. It’s had control for too long, and that ends now.
