An estimated 40 million American adults suffer from some form of anxiety disorder—even more than those who suffer from depression.
As soon as my attack ends, everything I said suddenly feels so stupid. I can finally see the way I looked through the other person’s eyes. I can see how psycho I must have seemed. How pathetic.
There’s just you, and your heart palpitations, trying to make everything stop spinning.
We are not defined by the fear. We are not merely a byproduct of our anxiety. This isn’t your claim to fame. It’s not your identity. It’s not the thing that sets you apart.
Once I stopped being so ashamed of it, I saw that anxiety was my superpower too. Because of my anxiety, I worked and loved harder. I strived to help others who were going through the same thing.
You’ll feel your heart racing. Your pulse so high. You’re convinced you might be dying from a heart attack.
We know we’re a lot to handle and sometimes hard to love. We do things that drive normal people insane, but we simply can’t control it.
You can’t fix them, so don’t try. There really is nothing that you can say that they probably haven’t already heard, so the best “solution” is to just be accepting and patient, because that’s all they really want in the end honestly.
A panic attack always begins the same way. I lose all warmth in my extremities and I begin to shake.
You’ll begin to understand that anxiety cannot be healed. You’ll begin to understand that anxiety is not like a broken leg, or a sprained wrist. And you’ll begin to understand that anxiety is a chemical imbalance, not a cry for attention.