There is a home video that depicts me, at four years old, having a panic attack over the quality of the video’s content. There is a journal entry written by me, at eight years old, on the eve of my first day of second grade, that says: “School starts tomorrow and I have not been able to eat or sleep in four days. I am about to burst with anxiety!” For as long as I can remember, anxiety and its accompanying plethora of fears have been omnipresent traits of who I am. It is a permanent part of me, ingrained in me from the very beginning, and will remain until the very end. Anxiety is woven into the fabric of my being, and there, it will always have a place to stay - not because I allow it to, but because I just don’t have a choice. It’s as much, and as natural, a part of me as the blonde of my hair and the green of my eyes.
I have lived nineteen years as a perpetually anxious person. I am by no means qualified to make scientific statements about this very real condition besides those I’ve acquired through my own experience. But the truth about anxiety is this: It takes until you have nothing left to give, and then it takes a little more. It’s a thief of joy, of experience, of happiness. It can dictate your decisions, limit your freedom, and exhaust you to the point of breaking. It steals your entire life if you let it. I know, because for years it did it to me.
When I grew tired of being afraid of my life and the world, I decided to try and fight my fears, which, in theory, is a good thing to do. I figured that getting rid of my fears would fix all my problems, and I’m sure it would have, if getting rid of fear entirely were even remotely possible. My breakthrough finally came when I realized that, if I continued to try to live a life without anxiety, I’d only continue to fail. What’s the point in fighting a winless battle? Fear is a part of the human condition — it can’t be annihilated, and it can’t be ignored. So I decided to accept the fact that, anxiety and I, will be lifelong friends. Looking at it that way, though — as a friend more than an enemy — has allowed me to avoid becoming completely entangled in its grips and use it for good, to the best of my ability.
Living with anxiety hasn’t been an ideal way to navigate life, but it’s made an indelible mark on the person I am today. It’s made me stronger and more resilient. It’s given me a deeper appreciation of the little things in life. And, whether I like it or not, I can always count on it to be there for me to some degree. As I said, it’s not an ideal situation, but it’s mine. When life puts us in situations, ideal or otherwise, we can resist them, or we can embrace them, just as we would our friends. Choosing to befriend my fears hasn’t abolished them or diminished their power, but I’ve come to find that shouldn’t be the goal. What is done is far more important — it’s allowed my life to become mine once again.
