My heart won't slow down, I'm clammy and nauseous and I know I'm being irrational. I know exactly how ridiculous I sound when I say "What if I never see my best friend/boyfriend/brother ever again?" But knowing how irrational it is, doesn't mean I can stop it. And I know how that sounds as well -- "What do you mean you can't stop? Just remind yourself that it's anxiety, not reality."
I spend a lot of my life in a constant state of near-panic. Regardless of how calm or peaceful everything should be, I will find something to worry about. In the middle of July, I will be convinced that I'm not going to pass my final exams in December.
Living with constant worry can be miserable. The summer before college, it was so bad that I had no appetite and frequently was physically ill from the worry. And while everything turned out okay in the end, my anxiety made the transition a lot more difficult.
There's an important difference between stress and anxiety, and I think it's very difficult to understand if you don't struggle with anxiety yourself. I am frequently stressed about school and work, but these are all things that I can control and are typically reasonable things to worry about. I often thrive with some level of academic stress, since it urges me to work harder. On the other hand, I am constantly anxious about relationships, travel, and health--all things that I largely have no control over.
I cannot control if my plane will be delayed, if I will catch that stomach bug going around, or if my boyfriend will suddenly decide he's tired of me. These are all my brain's favorite things to panic about, and these are why my anxiety is frequently irrational.
I've often described my anxiety like having two separate brains. On the one side, there's a voice in my head reminding me not to worry about things out of my control, and telling me that it's ridiculous to worry that the sun will suddenly and inexplicably implode–I've legitimately worried about this.
On the other side, there's another, louder voice telling me that it's possible for this parking deck to collapse, or screaming that my friends are all secretly tired of me. If you were to ask me about these possibilities, I would tell you that I know they're unlikely, but my heart is still racing from the fear.
So far, I've only found one foolproof solution: be open with someone who understands. Having anxiety is never something to be ashamed of, and I'm lucky enough to have several people in my life that I can talk to. While they can't always empathize, they'll always give me a hug and remind me that no, I'm not going to fail every class this semester, regardless of that one quiz grade in middle school.
Regardless of any medication or if I take up goat yoga–look it up– I am a person who struggles with anxiety. Some days it's hard to get out of bed, and some days I feel like banging my head against a wall. But as long as I have people around me who understand, they'll keep me reassured that no, Beyonce is not going to have a heart attack, and yes, maybe I can be a little annoying, but yes, they still love me.