I rarely make the effort to reach out to people, which probably makes a lot of people think I don’t care enough about our friendship to be bothered. Most of the time I badly want to talk to someone more, but I avoid reaching out because I worry I’m bothering them.
Everyone was laughing and enjoying themselves. I was just anxious for the moment the clock would strike 12 and I would find myself crying again.
It comes out from hiding when you least expect it. It’s a ghost that you never invited inside your brain. It’s a skeleton in your closet, that won’t go away no matter how many times you smash it to pieces. It’s a monster under your bed, who comes out to play at the worst possible moments.
If anxiety were a person, this is what I would say to him. I would beg him to get out of my head, to let me go. I would shout at him like he was an ex boyfriend saying, ‘leave me the fuck alone, just go’. But anxiety didn’t care what I thought. Anxiety didn’t care what I wanted at all.
Visit the ideal budget-conscious places for introverts: museums, local bookshops, local coffee shops, parks, and cemeteries.
Anxiety doesn’t care about how happy we are or what is going on in our lives. It is always there. No matter what we do, no matter where we are, and no matter who we are with, it can happen at any moment. The fear. The shaking. The images that cross our mind at lightning speed. The panic. The twirling of our hair. The need for more oxygen. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Always asking, “Who is going to be there?” before agreeing to any social gathering.
You visualize interactions before they happen. Whether it’s a first date, or a group hangout, you visualize and imagine what you are going to say in your head beforehand and try to think of every possible scenario that could happen.
Sometimes, you even have trouble texting, because you know you’re going to freak out during the few minutes it takes them to respond. The anticipation is just too stressful.
Even sitting in a room by myself, I can get anxious just looking at Facebook on my computer screen. It’s like the modern-day version of social anxiety.