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The Overwhelming Struggle of Anxiety
For most people, tasks like visiting the post office or returning ill-fitting clothes are just part of daily life. However, for me, these mundane activities feel like climbing Everest. The thought of engaging in any of them triggers an internal storm of anxiety that leaves me paralyzed. I have to mentally prepare myself just to contemplate such simple errands. As a result, my closet is stuffed with items I’ve yet to return, I have a saved pizza order on my phone, and I rarely send anything that doesn’t fit in my mailbox (sorry, friends, for the lackluster gifts).
Just last night, I finished a book that my friends and I are passing around. Yet, when it came time to drop it at the post office, I woke up at 2 a.m., gripped by the fear of what should be a straightforward errand. It’s absurd, I know. I can’t quite pin down what terrifies me — maybe it’s the fear of judgment? My rational mind tries to reassure me, saying, “It’s not a big deal.” But that reassurance quickly dissipates, smothered by the anxiety that makes my heart race and my breath catch. This social anxiety is a weight I’ve been dragging since my senior year of high school — invisible but suffocating.
Understanding my condition feels impossible, and even fewer people know about my struggles. I’ve become quite adept at masking it, pretending those unworn clothes are just a result of my busy life. To the casual observer, I might seem like a lively, outgoing person; I’ve even been a group fitness instructor for nearly six years, where everyone sees me as upbeat and energetic.
On my worst days, however, it’s a different story. I struggle to even get out of bed, and stepping outside for a simple trip to the mailbox feels overwhelming. The thought of interacting with anyone, even friends or family, becomes a high-stakes endeavor. An unexpected knock at the door sends me diving behind the couch, heart pounding as if I’m hiding from a predator. Logic eventually kicks in, and I berate myself: Why am I acting like this? Regular people don’t have these issues. If I were more put together, I wouldn’t either.
Would I speak this harshly to someone else? Absolutely not. I’m kind and understanding towards others, recognizing their struggles as valid, while I see mine as a sign of weakness. This distorted self-perception makes it difficult to view my anxiety objectively. I manage to cope, albeit with great effort. I have responsibilities — a family, a home, multiple jobs. I know isolating myself isn’t a solution, so on my rough days, I pull myself up, determined to function as normally as I can, trudging through each day like it’s quicksand.
I once tried to see a therapist but couldn’t go back after feeling uncomfortable because she wouldn’t make eye contact. It’s a strange existence, navigating life this way. Imagine if I could live without this weight.
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