Earlier this week, I took a Winnie-the-Pooh character quiz based on questions regarding my habits. I got Piglet, known for his anxious nature. As I discussed my answers with my friends, I realized my solutions were unique. I am always thinking about who and what might hurt me physically or emotionally.
The slightest response can haunt me for hours to days. I’m not talking about that embarrassing moment you had with your crush a few years ago that sometimes pops up before you sleep. I’m talking about always being aware of what you’re saying and then regretting every word you utter. I’m talking about holding back tears because you answered “incorrectly.” Or excusing yourself to go to the bathroom, so you don’t cry in front of the same people you believe you humiliated yourself in front of.
My anxiety is at its worst when I’m stressed. This means if I have a paper due soon, the tiniest thing can make me spiral or have a panic attack. Sometimes I create things to panic about. “Gosh, I still haven’t even started my internship search. What if future employers ask why I didn’t do an internship this summer? What if the deadline for my favorite internships passes? What if I’m applying for the wrong internship? What if I get rejected?” It goes on.
The weird part, however, is I consider myself to be extroverted. I love meeting new people and socializing with others, but my anxiety about meeting them leaves me drained. I don’t shake hands with new people I meet because my hands are often so sweaty due to my anxious nerves. It’s like riding a roller coaster even though you’re afraid of heights. The adrenaline rush could be worth the extreme dread or angst.
Growing up as a first-generation Arab Muslim immigrant in a world that constantly dehumanizes Arabs, Muslims and immigrants, I learned not to trust anybody. Living in a post-9/11 world with policies such as “The Patriot Act” in play, I had to be careful about what I said and to whom. Classmates can turn a simple joke against me, and I would have to convince people that my family and I are not terrorists.
A few years later, soon after President Donald J. Trump was elected, and I began to fear for my rights as a US citizen. His “Muslim Travel Ban” made me wonder what else he would do to contain my people. I also began to fear his supporters because if they supported his policies, they would definitely plot against me. Once again, I began to incorporate my anxieties into my social life. Instead of answering questions about myself, I became a pro at changing subjects and asking others questions. In a sense, I also began honing my journalistic skills.
My parents, unfortunately, grew up in third-world countries where they hesitated to trust people– one wrong statement could mean jail time or death. They instilled in my siblings and I the importance of avoiding gossip and being cautious. However, this distrust of politicians and people began to spread to my social life. When a friend would tell a mutual about a “secret” I had, such as bringing gum to class, I would overreact. If she couldn’t keep a small secret like this, how can I trust them with information about myself and my family?
Additionally, I grew up with fears that most Americans deal with, such as mass shootings. During my public education, I witnessed two mass shooting threats that campus security thankfully subdued. But it continued into university – last semester, there was a mass shooting threat on campus. As soon as the university police stopped the threat, my professors and employer expected me to return to campus and complete my work. We forget and move on.
My worries weren’t tied to physical punishment or demise but spread to the importance of keeping my public image. As one of the few Arab Muslim women in my suburban community, I had more eyes on me than average. My actions and statements reflected my communities, meaning if I did or said something embarrassing, my colleagues would think that’s something most Muslims do. Further, being a minority meant that my parents and community could figure out quite quickly which Arab Muslim girl did what. Though I already strived for greatness on my accords, my whole town watching me made these pressures of accomplishment immense.
I’ve generally begun to open up more, but new fears continue to arise. When I arrived at UC Berkeley, I learned that Berkeley not only encouraged free speech but is considered a safe place for free speech. I began to feel more at ease, but it was hard to unlearn the paranoia surrounding me during my first 18 years of life.
I will continue to learn new things that frighten me. I took a class about earthquake dangers, and now I constantly scan a room for an earthquake shelter spot. I read an article about flooding in Pakistan, and now I’m afraid of the following unexpected climate crisis. The real problem is finding a way to control my fears. Reminding myself, I’m not alone in these fears. That my family and friends love and support me. Taking deep breaths and finding a solution. Realizing it’s okay to cry and taking a break to do so. Talking things out with a trusted individual and finding ways to manage anxiety with a trained professional.
So yes, I’m paranoid, anxious, overwhelmed and constantly terrified – but at least I’m trying to overcome my struggles by accepting my surroundings. The first step is acceptance, and I hope those who relate learn to accept themselves too.