Stream of Consciousness — 3.

One of the most frustrating parts of having an anxiety problem is experiencing the deep, chest constricting feeling of doom when you’re sitting in the middle of traffic.

It always comes when you least expect it too. In the middle of a match, walking the dog, having a conversation with a friend, getting ready for bed… That’s the issue with having an anxiety problem. It’s a problem. One that’s been around since childhood. I have fond memories growing up of sobbing because I had this feeling of dread and panic over nothing. Literally nothing.

Eventually I started looking for reasons to be anxious, because if I’m anxious there has to be something bad happening (or will happen) to be anxious about right?

(I eventually figured out what that thing was. It was my parents passing this onto me without realizing it. Yay genetics.)

It crushed me when I saw the patterns in my family. It was a dark-comedic moment when I asked my therapist if mental illnessses were genetic and he just laughed and said “oh yes they are”.

I’m still exploring who I am, and unfortunately that means coming to terms with (and embracing) the not so great parts of what makes us.

In a parodoxical way, however, I think realizing that my anxiety is baked into my bones is… freeing. It took me a long time to accept that, but by doing so I can face every bout of anxiety, every little panic, with a little bit more calm and grace. I can remind myself that nothing bad is happening or will happen. It’s just a thing I do. A thing I am.

And suddenly, the weight gets lighter.