On Anxiety

Tags: #personal #sad #anxiety #myself

Written: 2024-01-16

This is being posted in September of 2026, having only seen minor edits after being written in my notes app. At the time of writing I was struggling to find joy in life, correctly realizing that changes needed to be made. As I still need to remind myself, joy comes from within. Those around you do not get to decide what makes you happy.

I am doing much better, but thought this captured my feeling at the time quite well, well enough to see the light of day.

Anxiety

I once realized someone looked at me funny. I would say the moment before that was my peak in life. 

There they were, a funny look on their face. It was not a look of confusion, at least not for themselves. It was a look of “really?”. Looking back, I don’t know what or whom it was for, but in that moment all hope of rational thought were replaced by two thoughts: why is that person looking at me funny, and why am I a person deserving of funny looks?

Until then, there was never reason to second guess myself, I was top of my fourth grade class with a record chock full of stickers shaped like stars. Unbeknownst to me, second guessing is a disease of the mind. A disease that found no resistance in a young brain. 

It quickly became my super power; the only one in the room who could notice when anyone needed help. In life there are three facts: people need help, people will not give help without being asked, and people do not ask for help. So I realized the cheat code: just give help to those who need it. Even a quick glance at the right person can change their day. 

But people need help. 

“I’m here for you” is a kind statement, lovely even if you don’t mean it. But to mean it and speak with your heart is something else. The look someone gives you when they know, at that moment, your entire world is devoted to them needing help, it is a drug. I quickly learned how to mean it to each person with whom I could be there for. The solution is easy when you think about it, just rip a chunk of your soul out and offer it to them. It is fool proof. A chunk here, a chunk there. I can scatter my soul to the world freely, as kindness begets kindness. 

At the end of the day I can fill the gaps I have cleft out with the pieces given to me by others. Yes I may be the instigator, but at the end of the day I am still whole. 

Wholeish. 

Going strong. 

My mother taught me to be good. I can’t stop. 

Sticking with it. 

Entirely faithful. 

But people will not give help without being asked. 

I practiced the faces. You know those faces of strangers that stick with you? The ones where you think “oh they need someone”, while knowing that someone is you? Those faces that haunt my dreams because that someone is me?

I laid it out perfectly. I am, after all, an excellent planner. I would be gentle initially, thank them for their concern, only to really get into it when they bring it up again later. After all, it should be me aiding them, I just need some affirmations. 

You ever stand near an overlook and subconsciously reach for the railing? You don’t reach because you need it, just getting your bearings. Every once in a while you misjudge the distance and catch nothing but air. Maybe you lean a little too hard into it and stumble a bit. A thought flashes past, “I’ve made a mistake”, but before it can be fully realized, you hit the railing. Slipped barely an inch and worried about falling. 

I missed the fact that there was no railing. 

And as has always been true, people do not ask for help. 

And I am people. 

As the good problem solver my dad raised me to be, I sat down and found a solution. If I need help, I can just get some. It will be easy, for I hardly even need help. But the next time someone looked me in the eye, and gave a genuine “How are you doing?”, I cracked.

With thousands of years of social evolution behind me, it all came apart.

I managed a smile and let them know I was doing great. In fact, I was doing so great they should never ask again. This greatness was beyond question, how would I be helping people if deep down I wasn’t doing great? Just great, everything is great. 

At that point, I screamed so loud in my head, my own words refused to enter it. 

Such an obvious ruse. Clearly everyone can tell. Obviously “I’m tired” is a cover, they just don’t care. 

Well, they clearly care, I just need to show them more. I can’t assume the world revolves around me. 

Come to think of it, they care so much that they must be great people. And a person of that caliber deserves an easy, happy life. 

And easy, happy lives are not filled with sad people. 

The logic could not be more clear. Turns out I am not a sad person. 

Turns out I am stoic, or independent. How could this be bad if people compliment me? How could I be doing wrong if they were happy that I was so easy and helpful?

I was easy and helpful last week, it would be wrong to not do more. After all, the best is only the best with constant improvement. 

Eventually I clawed my soul into others. I ignored the agonizing pain. I looked outward to the smiling faces, as inward was a husk. 

Then, one day, I realized I was not happy. I went to do things that make me happy. That same day, I realized I did not want to be happy. 

So life went on. 

Then, one day, I realized I could not go outside every time I wanted to. That deep down, there was something blocking me. So I put on my brave boy pants and reached out. 

I had seen posters and ads all over, “Seek therapy! We are here for you”. So I gave my greatest effort, and put myself in front of those who could help. 

And it was all good news! I am not suicidal! I am doing way better than the normal patients! I am doing so well it is a three month wait! I have a stable life and a family so I should be grateful!

But the screaming in my head got louder. 

Yet I accepted the answer of the people who could help. All it takes is some practice. Maybe some pills. Just a weekly visit. And an online coach. 

All valid solutions. All offered at my time of need. But therapists are people. And people like when you give the right answer. 

I broke down. I could not win the fight against myself. Unless there was a paper trail? I messaged my therapist. I spilled my fatal secret. I was not great. 

But the late night writings are calmly brushed off by confidence. How can I be suffering if I can look you dead in the eye and lie about how great things are?

Turn out saying “I’m a liar”, makes people trust your honesty. 

That night, the screaming in my head got so loud I could not hear the music of the world. I stopped existing even to myself. 

And so time did as time does, and years passed. I built the perfect little box for people to look in and see “doing well”. I was too busy for people to worry. After all, I was out doing things so often, they barely saw me. 

I was so busy I could barely sleep, sitting at home alone every night, cancelling plans. 

Its gotten better, no doubt about that. Some days I can even hear a compliment over the screaming in my head. 

I am a very smart person. I am charismatic, empathetic, a hard worker, and creative to boot. I can do anything I set my mind to. 

Turns out my mind is set on bringing me down. 

I had but one option left. I must take radical action to protect myself, against myself. If I can build barriers between me and the world, I can build them internally as well. 

I organized my brain. Each part knows it is not the whole, but believes it is the main. I can be dedicated now, as I will only know one purpose. I just can’t tell which purpose will lead my tomorrow. 

There is no end, no wall to cling to. I am me and will ever only be me. I am no longer sad, for that was me yesterday. I am free to achieve greatness, if that is the me of today. I see truth. The same truth I have told people my entire life. 

But the blinds stay closed and the screaming is not quieter, there are just no ears to hear it. 

Sorry if you read this in hope of a point. There are no happy endings halfway through a story. 

TLDR: I’m great, how are you?