Dear Anxiety,

You've always been there in some aspect. When I was little, you would show up and cause me to be shy around certain family members or I people I didn't know. You showed up when I didn't want to go to certain events at school or church, or when I didn't have a group of friends to feel "safe" with. I didn't know it back then, but that was you showing up in the form of social anxiety.

You still show up in that form almost daily. You showed up when I had to do presentations and speeches for school; the anticipation of them would be like a black cloud hanging over me until the presentation was over. You showed up when I wanted to try something new, to go somewhere new, to do something that would have positively impacted my life.

But I couldn't do it, because of you.

You show up when I agree to go to a party or any other social gathering and cause me to find an excuse to back out at the last minute. When I was younger, my mom would even drive me all the way to the event, only for me to start crying and begging her not to make me go in. You remember that, don't you?

You showed up when I started show choir and didn't really have friends. I remember sitting in class one day, tears filling my eyes, thinking about how I would survive in this group if I didn't make any friends.

Luckily, you didn't win that battle.

You show up when I have a bad headache or any other strange feeling, and you make my brain go to the worst-case scenario. You make me paranoid that I have some terrible illness or disease. You also make me afraid that when I don't feel well, I'm going to get sick in front of others and embarrass myself.

You show up when someone I love is traveling or when I don't hear from them for awhile. You, again, make my brain go to the worst-case scenario. You make me paranoid that something bad has happened to them.

I must admit, in some ways, you help me. You make me aware that life is short and people matter, and that at any moment, someone I love could be taken from me and to live and love according to that truth. You make me a really good listener and very observant. You make me very empathetic to those who are also weighed down by you.

But, in more ways, you don't help me at all. You rob me of joy. You make me ill. You make me question myself. You make me appear rude and stuck-up. You make me hard to get to know. You make it difficult to be vulnerable and express my thoughts and feelings. You make me not always fulfill my potential.

But you will not win. Despite your best efforts, I have fun memories, I've made life-long friendships and accomplished many things. You knock me down but I always get back up, and I always will.

Oh and one more thing: go to hell.