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My Anxiety Story

My earliest memory of anxiety dates back to my childhood – I must have been less than 10. I had been invited to a sleepover, along with the rest of my classmates, and I was determined to attend. By 1 am everyone was falling asleep, and my anxiety began to kick in – I couldn’t sleep in a place that wasn’t my own. My bed was safe, but this place wasn’t. So, at 1 am, my parents had to come and pick me up.

This was only the first in a long line of random anxiety ridden moments. And of course, they never made sense. For instance, I refuse to sit with my back to an open window, because someone could hurt me through the glass. I double check every lock on the doors; I carry a pocket knife for protection; I count exits and potential threats whenever I walk into a room. I am hyper-aware of every possible thing that could go wrong – I could get hit by a car; the building could crumble on top of me, etc.

It is exhausting. All of this stress and anxiety is draining, and worth nothing. Knowing what might happen doesn’t change anything. It took years of therapy to reach where I am now – acceptance.

I accept that life is scary. I can’t fight it, I can’t change it, so I ignore the anxiety. Is it the best option? Hell no. I have coping skills that I am still working on. But ignoring my anxiety, so far, has been the most effective.

 

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