I’m scared. I’m scared of everything. I’m not talking about being afraid of spiders or the dark. I’m afraid of literally everything. I’m too anxious to go to class, but I’m afraid to miss class. I’m afraid to go out on the weekends, but I’m scared of missing out. I’m afraid of going to the grocery store, but I’m afraid of running out of stuff.
I’ve gone through this endless battle my whole life, but somehow it never gets easier. I used to view my anxiety as my curse. A curse that eats at me from the inside out and never allows me to feel at peace. A curse that causes me to get sick every morning and forces my body to wake up at six in the morning when I don’t have class until ten. A curse that causes me to overthink each and every aspect of my life until I don’t even have time to catch my breath.
… but I’m starting to realize that maybe it isn’t a curse. Maybe, just maybe, my anxiety is a blessing in disguise. I know it sounds strange, but anxiety means I care. I care about my friends and family. I care about succeeding in life. I care about showing up. I care about the consequences of my actions.
Anxiety causes me to be cautious. Anxiety causes me to always be prepared. It helps me remember deadlines and birthdays. It helps me pack an extra phone charger when I’m going somewhere. It helps me to start assignments in advance, so I don’t stress at the last minute. Yes, I overthink, but that overthinking helps me to notice things that others miss.
I truly believe that my anxiety has made me strong. Not strong in the sense of confidence or power, but a silent type of strength. I’m strong because I wake up every morning and keep trying no matter how hard everything seems. Not everyone understands what it’s like for your mind and body to be in constant fight or flight mode, but I do. I know what it’s like to force myself to get out of bed and conquer what the day brings for me, no matter how hard it gets.
Even when my heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest and my hands are trembling, I still show up. I have the courage and the drive to keep going even when I’m scared. Anxiety certainly may be a key part of my story, but I refuse to let it play the villain. In fact, I’d even consider it to be the hero.
It protects me, prepares me, and pushes me to find inner strength. It’s ironic how the thing that I hate most about myself can also be the thing I love about myself. I love how empathetic, observant, and resilient it’s made me. Even though I’m scared of everything, deep down I know there’s nothing I can’t handle. Although my anxiety may shake me, it’ll never break me.