For a while last year, especially after a head injury, I started feeling like my whole world was falling apart. Like everything was fragile and everything was dangerous. I felt terrible doubts and fears about so many things I’ve trusted and depended on for years. At first I really thought something was terribly wrong–like my life was a lie and like everything was a day away from coming crashing down around me.
Turned out I was just having anxiety. The world was no more dangerous than it had been before, people were no less trustworthy, everything was going to be okay.
I think one of the toughest things about having anxiety, though, is that–when you’re having it–it doesn’t FEEL like “anxiety.” Even if you know you have it.
When you’re NOT feeling anxious for a while, you can understand what you’ve been going through, and you can say “I was just having anxiety.”
But when you ARE anxious, all those fears and doubts and threats are VERY, VERY REAL.
When you are experiencing anxiety, “just having anxiety” isn’t a thing.
Just because something is “just anxiety” doesn’t mean it won’t feel 100% real. But hope is in the flip side: Just because something feels 100% real doesn’t mean it’s not just anxiety speaking. You may still be totally safe.
Understanding this doesn’t necessarily solve anything. But it helps me be compassionate with myself, and it gives me a hopeful perspective to hold on tight when the waves come: It will feel sickeningly real, but even that is okay.
It also helps me understand others who may experience anxiety, a lot or a little. It helps me to appreciate and respect the sincerity and gravity of their feelings. And I think I now have a better idea than I used to of how to be there for them–to hold them a little tighter when their own waves come and they’re trying to keep from drowning–to just stick with them in their episodes of darkness and walk with them toward the light at the end of the tunnel.
I hope it helps you, too.