Navigating life as a mother while grappling with Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) can feel like walking a tightrope. I have always had a habit of biting my nails—not just a casual nibble, but a full-on gnawing that leaves them nonexistent. This behavior is a manifestation of my constant anxiety, which never seems to wane.
Most people around me are unaware of my struggle with anxiety, save for a few close friends and family members. I take medication to help manage my symptoms, but I often feel hesitant to share this part of myself. Anxiety is a heavy burden to bear, and it can be hard for others to grasp the depth of these feelings, especially if they haven’t experienced them firsthand. Imagine the instinctive reaction to duck when a ball is thrown at your face; my instinct is to spiral into worry and stress about every possible worst-case scenario.
If you’re reading this, you might find it easy to judge my reactions as over the top or unreasonable. That’s understandable. But this very judgment is often why many individuals with anxiety choose to suffer in silence. I hope to provide insight into my experience for anyone who feels alone in their struggles.
Here’s a glimpse into my world:
When my sister asks if she can take my son to the park, I immediately say no, fearing a tragic car accident. If my stepson wants to play outside just a few feet from the house, I decline, worried about the potential for kidnapping. Even simple actions, like letting my husband give our baby a banana, send me spiraling into thoughts of choking hazards.
I leave for school pick-ups 45 minutes early to avoid the anxiety of being late, which feels like a soda bottle ready to explode. If my mother-in-law offers to take my son for a sleepover, I panic at the thought of him falling out of her unfamiliar bed. A mere stomach ache leads me to believe my appendix is about to burst.
When conversations get chaotic, it feels like noise is amplified, and if I’m invited to an event, excitement quickly turns to dread as I anticipate the social interactions that will drain me. I often obsess over my appearance, convinced that everyone is judging my hair. If a loved one is late to call, my mind goes to dark places where they’ve been harmed.
In public, I hover anxiously over my baby when someone else is holding her, ready to intervene. When faced with an unexpected knock at the door, I find myself arming myself and preparing for an emergency. Even the sounds of the night can lead to vivid, terrifying scenarios playing out in my mind.
It might sound absurd, and I agree; it can feel absurd to live this way. Yet, many share similar experiences, each battling their unique forms of anxiety. I live with a persistent, irrational fear that disaster is just around the corner. While others might enjoy a day at the beach, I’m the one obsessively applying sunscreen and scanning the waters for any sign of danger.
Having lost both of my parents and most of my grandparents, it’s no surprise that I take extreme precautions to safeguard my loved ones. This is the first time I’m openly sharing my feelings beyond my inner circle. Reflecting on my thoughts in writing reveals how irrational they can seem to outsiders. I hope to connect with others experiencing similar challenges, dispelling the notion that we’re simply “worry warts” who can just “calm down.” If it were that easy, we would.
I’ve found some relief through meditation and prayer, recognizing that my need for control is often futile. I cannot dictate the wind, time, or the actions of others. Acknowledging this truth helps me to ease the tension I carry.
What I truly seek is understanding. We need compassion rather than judgment. If you know someone grappling with anxiety, offering support instead of dismissing their feelings can make a world of difference. For more insights into anxiety and how to navigate such challenges, check out this excellent resource from the CDC.
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