Dear Anxiety,

I hate you.

It's hard to remember a time before you were in my life. Ever since I was a child, I've been paranoid. Looking back, I attributed it to being overdramatic; all kids have irrational fears and are imaginative. However, I never grew out of those fears like most people do. Instead, they only got worse. I tried to convince myself that what I felt was normal but the more I voiced my thoughts and nerves to other people, the more I realized that this wasn't how most people were. My rationalization of my anxiety disorder and denial began to falter. And you began to take over my life even more as I became increasingly more aware of you.

I’ve always had a problem with asking for help. I used to think it was because I was stubborn or too proud but really it’s you, anxiety, who is to blame. You make me always feel as if I’m bothering anyone I talk to--forget about asking for favors. Because of you, I think people will hate me if I inconvenience them in even the slightest way. Due to this, my life is one giant apology. Even when it’s not my fault, I feel like it is. Even when I have no reason to say sorry, I still do, hoping that if I apologize, they’ll still like me. Even thought there was no reason for them to dislike me in the first place.

You make people doubt me. “You’re being overdramatic,” “you work yourself up for no reason,” “that’s just an excuse,” “everyone has to deal with stress in their life.” I’ve heard it all. You cause arguments and rifts in my everyday life. You hurt my relationships. People look at me differently because they think I’m unreliable, lazy or unmotivated--a whole list of assumptions they’ve made because of actions instigated by you. Maybe part of it is me. Who knows? Because you make me doubt myself too.

I question all my decisions, scrutinizing my every action. Should I have done that? What would’ve happen if I did this instead? I live in fear of my actions being mistakes, leading to terrible scenarios, even when I know they probably won’t. There’s still that fear festering in my mind, turning even the simplest of decisions into life-changing ultimatums. I lay awake at night, contemplating what might happen because of choices I’ve made. The outcomes are endless.

You turn nothing into an all-consuming everything. You make me feel like I’m always choking, hands wrapped around my neck and pulling me down. You make me afraid of everything, paranoid of whatever I do. Uncertainty is my worst enemy and even when it seems as if the future is set, I still question endlessly, never one hundred percent sure about any promise.

I hide in my room, wishing I could escape you. Stress creeps up on me like a leak in a boat, the levels growing higher and higher until I can’t breathe, struggling to stay afloat. I try to outrun you but you might as well be a professional marathon runner, always catching up to me. I feel trapped; even when I sleep, I am plagued by nightmares, my worst anxiety-driven fears come true in my dreams. I wake up in a sweat and gasping for breath, repeating to myself over and over that it's not real. But that's not what it feels like.

I grow exhausted from the vicious cycle of trying to push you away, trying to ignore you because you are so persistent and always win eventually. Even on the days when I have absolutely nothing to worry about, I still do. And on the glorious days when I manage to contain you and my mind isn’t racing, I feel so relieved and it’s almost like you’re not there. But you always come back.

So here’s to you anxiety. One day, I will be free.