As long as I can remember, I’ve had a habit of biting my nails—not in a cute, nervous way, but to the point where they’re often completely gone. This anxious behavior kicks in constantly, as anxiety is a companion I can’t seem to shake off, even in the happiest moments of motherhood.
Most people are unaware of my struggle with anxiety, aside from my closest friends and family. I rely on medication to help manage my symptoms, but I rarely share this aspect of my life because it feels deeply personal and somewhat isolating. Those who are close to me sometimes find it challenging to grasp why I respond the way I do to various situations. It’s tough for someone to understand a feeling they’ve never experienced. For instance, if a ball were thrown at me, my instinct would be to brace myself for impact, while my instinct in most situations is to ruminate and fret about the worst possible outcome. This reaction is both automatic and beyond my control.
I’m aware that you might judge me after reading this. Perhaps you think I’m being overly dramatic—and that’s okay. This perception is one reason many individuals with anxiety suffer in silence. My hope is to shed light on this issue, so others feeling the same way will know they aren’t alone. I’m navigating this journey alongside you, and help is available.
Here’s a glimpse into my life with generalized anxiety disorder (GAD):
When my sister offers to take my son to the park, I decline, fearing that if something tragic were to happen, I could never forgive her. When my stepdaughter wants to play alone in our backyard, I hesitate, worrying about the possibility of someone abducting her while I’m not looking. When my husband suggests giving our baby a banana, I panic at the thought of choking, opting to stick with baby food until she’s much older.
To avoid the anxiety of being late, I leave home 45 minutes ahead of schedule when picking my stepdaughter up from school. I can’t stand the feeling of being rushed, which feels like a shaken soda bottle ready to explode. When my mother-in-law asks to take my son for a sleepover, I worry he might fall out of bed and hurt himself. If I experience any stomach discomfort, I convince myself it’s a sign of a ruptured appendix.
In crowded or noisy environments, the sound of multiple conversations feels overwhelming, like a loud megaphone directed right at me. While I may enthusiastically agree to social events, the days leading up to them are filled with dread about getting ready and engaging in small talk. By the time I return home, I’m utterly exhausted.
If I leave the house feeling insecure about my appearance, I obsessively scan the faces of passersby, convinced they are judging me. I worry that if my sister doesn’t call when she says she will, something terrible has happened to her, even envisioning how I would react if the police confirmed my fears.
When someone asks to hold my baby, I find myself fixated on them, ready to intervene if something goes wrong. If an unfamiliar person knocks on the door, I grab a makeshift weapon and prepare to call for help. At night, strange noises send my mind racing to scenarios where an intruder could be threatening our safety.
You might think all of this sounds absurd, and I can’t blame you. It often feels absurd to me, too. Yet, this is the reality for many living with anxiety disorders, each varying in intensity. For me, it manifests as an overwhelming, relentless fear that danger lurks around every corner. While others might enjoy a day at the beach with their children, I’m busy applying sunscreen and scanning the water for sharks.
My experiences are likely tied to my losses; I’ve lost both parents and nearly all of my grandparents. This has instilled in me a deep-seated fear that those I love could suddenly be taken from me, prompting me to go to great and sometimes irrational lengths to keep them safe.
Sharing this for the first time with anyone beyond my inner circle is daunting. Seeing my thoughts laid out like this is painful, yet I hope it helps someone else realize they’re not alone. It’s crucial to understand that we aren’t merely “worrywarts” who need to “calm down.” If we could do that, we would.
I’ve started practicing meditation and prayer, which has provided some relief. Much of my anxiety stems from a desire for control, even though I know that I can’t control everything in life. Acknowledging this fact is essential in helping me let go of the pressure to have everything go according to plan.
What I need from others is understanding. Anxiety is not something we fake; it’s very real. So instead of judgment, we need love and support. If you know someone who struggles with anxiety, please don’t dismiss their feelings or make them feel foolish. Instead, ask how you can help and reassure them that you’re there for them. Living with anxiety is challenging, but having a supportive network can make a significant difference.
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In summary, my life as a mother with generalized anxiety disorder is filled with constant worry and fear. Despite this, I strive to manage my anxiety and seek support from loved ones, hoping to create a better understanding of this often invisible struggle.
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