The Things We Carry: How Anxiety Was Always With Me, Even Before I Knew It
- shgallis
- Feb 19, 2025
- 4 min read
I remember being five years old, hiding under the table at my birthday party. The room was full of people, all staring at me as they sang "Happy Birthday," and all I could think was, “I want to disappear.” I didn’t understand why the attention felt so suffocating, but looking back, I realize that was my first real experience with anxiety. It wasn’t just shyness or a passing discomfort—it was the overwhelming feeling of being exposed, of not being able to control the situation, and I didn’t know how to process it.
As a child, there were other moments like this, little signs that something was off but that I didn’t have the words to explain. I would often feel nervous for no apparent reason, my stomach in knots or my mind racing. In elementary school, I remember dreading any kind of attention—whether it was reading aloud in class or being called to the front of the room. It wasn’t just about being shy; it was this constant underlying worry that I couldn’t shake.
By high school, the signs were harder to ignore. The anxiety that had started as a quiet presence in my life was now more in my face. I’d have trouble sleeping before big events, I’d overthink every social interaction, and I couldn’t explain why. It felt like the world around me was constantly too much, and I just didn’t know how to handle it. But because I didn’t have the language for it, I thought maybe it was just stress or normal teenage nerves. It wasn’t until I hit college that I realized it was much more than that.
It was my sophomore year when everything came to a head. I had a severe anxiety attack that left me physically drained and mentally overwhelmed. I couldn’t focus on anything—I felt like I was drowning in my own mind. I had to take a week off school to recover, and that’s when I realized this wasn’t just occasional stress or nerves—it was anxiety, something I had carried with me for years without even realizing it. That’s when I started medication to help manage the physical symptoms, but the emotional side still felt overwhelming.
The road wasn’t smooth. I had moments where I wondered if I was doing enough to take care of myself, but medication gave me a lifeline. It didn’t solve everything, but it helped me take the edge off the physical manifestations of anxiety. It also made me more aware of the emotional side of things. It took time, but I learned that it wasn’t about fixing myself—it was about learning to cope with the anxiety and finding ways to live with it.
Anxiety has shaped much of my life, but it doesn’t define me. Yes, it’s always there in the background, like a constant companion, but it doesn’t control me. It’s still something I carry with me every day, but I’ve learned how to manage it, to be kinder to myself, and to speak openly about it when I need to.
In a way, my anxiety has reshaped the way I view the world and the people around me. I’m more attuned to the emotions of others, often noticing when someone is hiding their own struggles or overthinking things, just like I used to. Because of my own experiences, I’m able to approach relationships with more empathy and patience, understanding that we all carry our own burdens. It’s made me more compassionate but also more cautious.
I overthink. A lot. Like, a lot. I can’t always shut it off, and it often makes me second-guess myself or wonder if I’m reading too much into situations. But it’s also taught me the value of listening to my instincts and trusting my own perspective, even when my mind tries to cloud things.
In some ways, I see the world differently because of my anxiety. I’m more aware of the weight that people can carry in silence, and how easily things can feel like they’re spiraling out of control. I’ve learned that I’m not the only one who struggles with these invisible weights, and that everyone has their own battles. It’s helped me avoid judging people too quickly and has reminded me that nothing is as simple as it appears on the surface. People are complex, and we’re all working through something—whether it’s anxiety, grief, insecurity, or something else entirely. But here's the thing—we're all kind of a mess. (And honestly, isn't that what makes us relatable?) If you're feeling like you're not quite holding it all together, trust me, you’re in good company.
But at the same time, anxiety has taught me that life is unpredictable, and I can’t control everything. I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I won’t always have answers, and that’s okay. Sometimes, the best I can do is show up and be present, whether that’s for myself or for the people I care about. Learning how to let go of the need for control has been one of the hardest but most freeing parts of this journey. Surrendering to the chaos is a skill, not a flaw.
I don’t have all the answers. Anxiety is something I’ll carry with me, but it doesn’t have to define who I am. It’s just a part of my story. And while it sometimes makes the world feel heavier, it’s also given me the tools to face it with more resilience. I’m learning to show up for myself, to ask for help when I need it, and to embrace the fact that it’s okay not to have everything figured out.
So, if you’re struggling with anxiety or anything else, don’t be afraid to ask for help. It’s not a weakness—it’s a step toward taking control over something that can feel uncontrollable. Anxiety doesn’t define who I am, but it’s a part of my story that I’m learning to carry with grace. And if nothing else, at least we have our overthinking in common.
Resources on Anxiety Management:
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