Living with Anxiety

The Weight I Carry

I want to talk about my anxiety.

When I think about my childhood, I sometimes feel jealous of how carefree I was. Back then, I didn't have worries. There was no heavy feeling in my chest, no thoughts racing around in my head. I just lived life without fear hovering around.

But now, I feel like I'm stuck in an endless cycle. Every morning, I wake up feeling tired, stressed before the day even begins. It's like there's an unseen weight on me, always whispering that something is wrong, even when things are actually okay.

I wish I could turn back time to when I didn't feel broken. But now, this fear is a part of who I am. I try to manage it, to make it through each day, but it often feels overwhelming. Like I'm carrying a heavy load that I can't seem to drop.

Living with anxiety feels like having an invisible backpack filled with rocks. Nobody else can see it, but its weight is with you every single day.

Where It All Began

My first real encounter with anxiety happened during my school years. I was mostly carefree, but exam results always triggered a wave of panic.

In my culture, academic success defines your worth and future. Looking back, I realize it doesn't matter much, but it consumed me then.

When exam results came out, I felt a knot in my stomach, a tightness that was hard to ignore. I'd freeze, fearing the worst. I wasn't great academically, and seeing those results felt like I was staring at failure. My heart raced, and all I could think was, "What will I do now? What if I let everyone down?" It was overwhelming.

Hearing people called "talented" just because of good grades bothers me. Success isn't only about academics. I've learned that it's not the worst thing that can happen in life.

Back then, I thought my grades defined my worth. Because they weren't impressive, I felt like a failure. But now? I don't stress about it anymore. I've found value in other areas of my life.

Everyone has something that makes them happy and excited. For me, that's coding. It's where I channel my energy and passion. In the past five years, I haven't worried about exams or grades. I'm content with that. I've found my own path, and it doesn't depend on a report card.

The Existential Crisis

At the age of 12, I got hit by my first real wave of anxiety. It wasn’t from exam results; it was something deeper. I found myself in an existential crisis, which seemed odd for someone so young.

All of a sudden, life felt incredibly heavy. I began to question everything around me, but mainly myself. It moved beyond the small things to the big picture. I constantly asked: Am I doing everything right? Are my choices the right ones? Am I living as I should?

My mind was racing, and the anxiety grew stronger. That was the turning point when my anxiety began to spread.

Desperate to find meaning in life, I dived into many areas, like philosophy and religious texts, hoping to find answers. I don’t even know how I managed, but I kept on reading, page after page, searching for something to explain it all. I just wanted to know my purpose, the reason for my existence.

But each answer brought more questions, worsening my anxiety. The more I searched, the tighter the knot in my chest became.

"He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how."

When Depression Came In

Anxiety was always there, lurking in the background. But it intensified when I fell into depression. Although it feels awkward to talk about, I can’t avoid it.

With depression, everything changed. My anxiety levels soared. It wasn’t just fleeting thoughts anymore; it turned into a constant, heavy presence. Socially, I transformed. Once comfortable around people, I lost that ease after depression hit.

I didn’t know how to interact with people anymore and didn’t even want to. It was like becoming a different person. I had been outgoing, eager to connect with others, but withdrew into my shell, turning more introverted than I thought possible. I slowly drifted away from the world, struggling with self-consciousness and overthinking, making every interaction feel like a challenge.

The First Panic Attack

Then the panic attacks arrived an experience etched in my memory.

I remember the first one vividly. My hand began shaking uncontrollably. My chest felt tight, like breathing was impossible. Confused, I stood there, feeling completely out of control.

Back then, I didn’t know what a panic attack was but realized something was wrong. The sensation of losing control, feeling engulfed by fear, was terrifying.

Afterward, I never felt the same. Anxiety was a constant presence. I didn’t just worry about the panic attacks; I lived in fear of the next one. Constant dread loomed over me, the thought that at any moment, I could feel that hand tremble or that chest tighten again.

This fear of another panic attack consumed me, increasing my anxiety. It was no longer a hidden worry; it was always there, ready to strike. I lived on edge, terrified of what might happen next.

After the Depression Faded

When my depression started to lift, I hoped life would get easier. I imagined I could finally breathe freely again.

But the anxiety didn't go away. It stayed with me, almost like it became a part of who I was. Even though I wasn't deep in depression anymore, I couldn't escape the anxiety. It lingered every day, hanging around in the background, always just below the surface.

I tried to continue with my life, pretending things were fine. But really, I could never shake it off. I couldn't just exist without that constant tightness in my chest, that feeling something was wrong, even when there was nothing to worry about.

I didn't know how to express it or explain it clearly. People would tell me, "Just let it go," or "It'll pass," but that didn't help. How could I let go of something so deeply rooted inside me? How could I explain this invisible weight I had to carry every day?

It was like I was always holding my breath, waiting for something to trigger the anxiety. Waiting for the next wave of panic to hit or that overwhelming feeling. My mind was always racing, imagining the worst scenarios, never allowing me to relax.

The worst part was that I didn't feel like I had anyone to talk to. I didn't want to burden others with this endless anxiety that felt like a constant companion. So I kept it to myself, trying to reconnect with myself while feeling cut off from everyone else.

School and Social Anxiety

As I said before, I didn't really care about my grades. School wasn't important to me; it was just something I had to do because my dad insisted. That's why I kept going, even though it felt meaningless.

But the real issue wasn't just school or my grades it was the anxiety that came with it. My social anxiety was at its worst during those years. It got so bad that I would often have panic attacks just walking into class.

I felt like everyone was watching me, like I couldn't make a move or speak without being noticed and judged. I couldn't even answer a question or walk down the hallway without feeling like the whole world was staring at me.

The fear would rise, making me shake, with my heart racing. Sometimes, I'd have a panic attack right there in the middle of class. Some days, just thinking about going to school would fill me with dread, and I'd spend the day fearing when the next panic attack might come.

That's when I started developing small ways to cope. One thing I tried was placing salt on my tongue when a panic attack approached. It wasn't a cure, but it helped in the moment, giving me something else to focus on. It was a small distraction from the overwhelming anxiety.

This feeling was like being alone while surrounded by others, experiencing a strange isolation even in a crowd.

How I'm Feeling Now

Right now, my anxiety and social anxiety are really intense. It feels like there's a heavy weight pressing on my chest, making it very hard for me to talk to other people. I barely speak to anyone outside my family, and even with them, our conversations are limited.

I've created a barrier around myself, keeping everyone at a distance. It's not that I don't want to be close to others; it's just that my anxiety makes it feel too difficult. Every conversation feels draining, and there are days when I have no energy to get through it.

The more I isolate myself, the harder it becomes to go back into the world. And I know I’m missing out on moments and experiences that I used to enjoy like talking and being with others.

Sometimes, it feels like I am trapped in what I described in the paradox of self-awareness being too aware of my anxiety seems to make it worse. It's a cycle that's really hard to escape from.

About Relationships

Not long ago, I had a conversation with a friend online. This friend lives far away, which somehow makes the talk less stressful for me. He talked about his girlfriend and their relationship, and then he asked, "Why aren't you in a relationship?"

I found it hard to answer him at first. It's not that I don’t want to be in a relationship; it's just that the idea seems overwhelming right now.

If I were to be in a relationship, I’d need to think about another person. I'd have to consider not only my own feelings but theirs too. Caring for someone else means paying attention to their needs, emotions, and life. And with my current state of anxiety, handling all that feels impossible.

I'm still working on understanding myself, trying to manage my emotions. Adding a relationship into the mix is something I can't manage at the moment.

I don't even think I have the capacity to support someone the way they deserve. My anxiety takes up so much room in my mind that I can't give the time, energy, or attention that another person would need from me right now.

How Anxiety Changed My Connections

Anxiety has changed how I connect with people. It's not just about the panic attacks or the constant fear it also affects my relationships with those around me.

I used to think I had a lot of friends, but now, I hardly talk to anyone. Most of my friends are online, and to be honest, I don't reach out much anymore. These connections feel distant now compared to before.

There is one friend, though someone who has truly been there for me. He's a classmate, and over time, we've developed a deep bond. He's the only one I can talk to about important things. He really understands my struggles and doesn't just listen he knows what it's like to carry that burden.

He can be a bit cheeky, and some people criticize him for it, but I don't mind. I see someone who can still laugh and joke despite the tough times. What matters most is that he gets me.

Before anxiety took over, I believed I had many friends. But now, a wall of self-consciousness is in the way. I can't connect with others like I used to. My social anxiety makes it hard to keep up normal relationships.

I can't bring myself to call anyone, and honestly, I don't want to. Keeping a distance feels easier. My relationships with family have gotten worse, too. I don't talk to most of them anymore. When they call, I don't answer. The connection I used to have with them is gone.

This reminds me of what I wrote in It-breaking-me, about how our own minds can sometimes be our worst enemies.

Finding Peace in Solitude

When I was younger, I heard a lot about being alone and never really understood it. It seemed like something bad, like being alone meant missing out or something was wrong.

But now it's different. I've learned that being alone isn't something to fear. Being alone is something I love. Finding peace in solitude has been one of the best things for me.

It's like I can finally breathe and be myself without worrying about outside pressures. Sometimes, it's easier to be alone than with others, especially when anxiety is too much.

Being on my own has solved many problems it's where I find peace and clarity. I don't need to explain myself, hide my feelings, or pretend to be someone I'm not. Being alone isn't lonely anymore; it's freedom.

I remember hearing in a movie, "It's easier to be alone." That resonated with me, and I agree. When I was younger, I felt deeply lonely like I was constantly missing something or not enough.

But now, solitude is my peace. It's my time and space, and I won't let anyone take that from me. It's not that I want to be completely isolated, but being alone feels different now.

Alone is alone, but not lonely

I don't want people to change that for me. I don't want anyone saying I should be out more or that I need to be with people to feel "normal." This is my normal. I don't feel the same kind of loneliness I once did. Instead, I've embraced the quiet and the space, even though others don't always get it.

People often say, "You need to let others in," but it's not always that simple. Sometimes, having my own company is all I need, and I'm okay with that.

Learning to Live With It

Right now, my anxiety is really high. It's been growing, and even though I've learned to live with it, it still feels hard. It's there every day, sometimes quiet, sometimes loud and overwhelming.

Even though it's tough, I'm trying new ways to manage it. I'm not acting like it's gone or that I know everything, but I'm learning to handle it, step by step.

There are still times when I feel like I might break, but I'm not as lost as before. I've started finding small things that help, like taking time for myself, focusing on things I enjoy, or recognizing my anxiety without letting it take over.

It's not perfect, and some days are tougher than others, but I refuse to give up. I know managing this and living with it takes time. It's a process of change, and I'm okay with that.

Like I mentioned in my journey to becoming a developer, sometimes the toughest paths lead to unexpected growth. My journey with anxiety has been difficult, but it's taught me things I might never have learned otherwise.

What I've Learned Along the Way

After living with anxiety all these years, I've picked up a few things that help me cope:

1. Acceptance over resistance: Fighting anxiety can make it stronger. Sometimes, just admitting it's there without judging it helps it become less powerful.

2. Small victories matter: On days when just getting out of bed feels impossible, celebrate that win. Anxiety tries to make our achievements seem small don’t let it.

3. Find your anchors: Whether it's a person, a place, or an activity that grounds you, know what brings you back when anxiety tries to pull you away.

4. Your worth isn't measured by productivity: Anxiety often makes us feel like we're not doing enough. Remember, your value isn't about how much you do.

5. It's okay to retreat sometimes: There's no shame in stepping back when things get too much. Creating boundaries is self-care, not weakness.

I still struggle with these lessons. Some days I forget them completely. But they're there, waiting for me to pick them up again when I need them most.

The Continuing Journey

I don't know if anxiety will always be part of my life. Maybe it will fade, or maybe I'll just get better at carrying it. Either way, I'm trying to accept that this is my reality now.

The journey with anxiety isn't a straight line. It's full of setbacks and surprising breakthroughs. Days when I feel like I'm on top of it, and days when it's too much for me. But as I reflect on change in my life, I've come to see that even the hard parts of our stories shape who we become.

Maybe the most important thing I'm learning is that anxiety is part of my story, but it's not the whole story. It's one part in a much bigger picture. And while that part is dark and sometimes heavy, it's woven alongside parts of joy, learning, connection, and growth.

That's what I'm working on, at least. One day at a time.

If you felt connected to this post, you might also want to read about my experiences with depression, overthinking, and finding peace in solitude. Sometimes knowing we're not alone with our struggles can make them a bit easier.