Me and My Anxiety: A Complicated Relationship

Real Talk Vol. 11

Anxiety introduced herself during lockdown like an uninvited roommate.

And she’s been overstaying ever since.

At first, I didn’t notice her.

The world was already upside down.

Everything felt temporary, uncertain, and out of control.

But somewhere between the endless headlines and the silence of my apartment,

she unpacked her bags and made herself comfortable.

Three years of working from home gave me peace,

but also made the outside world feel like too much noise.

Now that I’m back in the office once a week,

I’m slowly re-learning how to people again.

How to hold small talk without overanalyzing every word.

How to exist without needing to retreat.

And then there’s the overthinking.

My not-so-fun party trick.

I replay conversations.

Dissect tone.

Read between lines that probably weren’t even there.

I don’t let things go until I understand them,

and even then, I’ll still think about it for three to five business days.

And just when you think that’s enough,

enter trichotillomania.

When I’m anxious or stressed, I pull at my eyelashes or eyebrows.

Not completely, just enough to remind myself I’ve been through it.

So yes, my brow appointments are self-care and damage control.

It’s not cute.

But it’s real.

And that’s something I’ve stopped apologizing for.

Some days, I win.

Some days, anxiety does.

But I still get up.

Still breathe.

Still try again.

Because healing doesn’t always look polished.

Sometimes it just looks like showing up,

mascara or not.

–C