I’m done saying sorry. I’m done being treated like I am the worst person in the world because I have to take care of my mental health before I take care of other people. I’m done having to say sorry to people who don’t understand what I am going through. I’m done apologizing for taking care of me.
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.
To be honest I’m not quite sure if you were even looking at me or looking through me. I don’t know you that well after all. Maybe you just like to stare at empty spaces and mistook me for one.
Despite the shaky hands. Despite the shaky legs and the upset stomach. Despite all of it. You can’t let it win. You can’t let it control you. You can’t let anxiety take your life away from you.
If they understood that I’m not pathetic or making things up, that I’m not faking it or exaggerating things, then it would be easier.
They will always be honest with you. You will have no problems with communication in this relationship, because they don’t hide anything from you.
Anxiety tells you that even your best friends hate you. It plagues your minds with paranoid thoughts that everyone is just pretending and they only hang out with you because they feel sorry for you.
I flee the moment before anything good can begin. I run the other direction when someone is interested me. I shut the door on any opportunity that I see. And I don’t know why.
The single most irritating thing about a person is when they constantly ask ‘Are you ok today?’, ‘Something seems different in you’ or ‘You don’t seem yourself’.
I think more often than not, people took my shyness as me thinking that I was too good to be part of the group. And maybe this is just a part of the paranoia aspect of having anxiety, but either way, these reactions made me want to crawl even deeper into my shell and never come out.