Ashley's Anxieties

Okay, people. I’m about to get so real with you. More so than I ever have. I’m going to share my doubts, worries, and anxieties. I’m going to be an open book for those who can’t. Not everyone is comfortable talking about what goes on inside of their mind, some can’t. We are afraid of judgement. We are afraid of lost relationships. We are afraid of rejection. But, most of all, I think we feel ashamed. Ashamed that we can’t control our minds, ashamed that we can’t control our anxieties. And guess what? It’s okay. We are human. Our brains may be wired just a little differently than the person next to us, and that’s okay! So, buckle up ladies and gents, as I dive deep into my own mind and share all you need to know about my struggle with anxiety.

I remember being a little girl and feeling so carefree. My biggest worries were “what am I going to eat for breakfast” and “which Barbie should I play with.” As I got older, my vision became more skewed. I was bullied and put down on a daily basis. Soon, my worries transitioned to “what will they make fun of me for today” and “when will this end.”

Fast-forward to high school, where the bullying only got worse. If you’ve read any of my past stories, you know that high school really wasn’t the greatest time of my life. Even though I was always worrying about the typical teenager things, like “does that boy like me” or “I hope I pass this test” or “how can I make it to graduation,” I also struggled with thoughts like “I’ll never be good enough for my family” and “maybe I should cut a little deeper next time.” My depression and anxiety have always been best friends, and hit me hardest when they come together.

I’m the kind of person that questions every single word I’ve ever said, wondering if it paved the way for a future fall out with a loved one. I’m the kind of person who bites my tongue rather than speaking my mind out of fear that someone will judge me more. I’m also the kind of person that has SO MUCH to say but never knows how. I feel deeply and often question the motives of others around me, while also seeing the best in them. I’ve allowed others to get a second, third, fourth chance, even when I should’ve given up on them a long time ago. I’m the kind of person that thinks so little of myself that I’ve come to believe there are so many things I will never be capable of.

As a mother, I doubt myself regularly. I look at my kids and wonder if they’d be happier with a “mentally stable” mom. Not that I am mentally UNstable, but simply because I suffer from multiple mental health illnesses that can sometimes leave me with crippling anxiety and a destroyed outlook on life. And they still love me. My kids love me and all of the hot mess that I am, and always will be. They never try to change me or tell me that I’m a bad mother. To them, I’m just “mom” and that’s enough for them. I’m slowly learning that it should be enough for me, too.

As a wife, I am constantly feeling guilty. Guilty that I’m unable to provide the way I’d like to. Guilty that I’m always tired, even when he lets me sleep in. Guilty that I don’t want to have sex multiple times a week, even when my husband could care less as long as I’m happy with him. My mind is regularly reminding me that he could do so much better and that I don’t deserve the love he gives me. It’s taken time to believe him when he says he is the lucky one.

As a daughter, I feel inadequate. My parents are always saying that I don’t talk to them enough or call them just to catch up. Logically, I know they mean well and just miss their daughter. However, my anxiety tells me that they wish their daughter cared more, did more. I feel the same way as a granddaughter, never quite measuring up to what they expect from me. But they love me, and miss me. I shouldn’t feel anxious or inadequate for being loved.

As a friend, I’m the last resort or the odd one out. My anxieties hold me back and tarnish relationships. My depression tears me away from those that mean the most to me, and I’ve lost multiple friendships. Deep down, I know that my real friends will stick around, through all of my darkness. But my mind always tells me otherwise - they will all leave eventually. Accepting a true friendship is a battle that is worth the fight.

And when it comes to work? Don’t even get me started. Constantly feeling insignificant, like I have no true talents and nothing meaningful to share with the world. I’m a nobody, and no one wants a nobody. I procrastinate and go through times where my productivity may as well be taking me backward.

But you know what? I can still embrace myself and all of my flaws. I can find confidence in little things. I can speak my mind and stand up for myself. I have a way with written words that I don’t have when speaking out loud. I’ve learned to use my written words to express my emotions and thoughts, my dreams and fears, my love and gratitude. Does that mean all of those anxiety-inducing thoughts have vacated my mind? Of course not. They are still very much alive and have made themselves quite comfortable inside my brain. But when I write, I’m able to tap into another part of myself that allows the real me to come out.

The power of written words is a beautiful thing, and it’s something I’ve always been drawn to. And now, I couldn’t be more grateful that I’ve learned to use my words as an outlet for myself, and possibly a platform to help others, and raise awareness about something that so many struggle with.

Having anxiety isn’t easy, and the stigma surrounding mental health only makes it more difficult. I’m not an expert on coping mechanisms, but I’ve found something that works for me, most days. I hope this helps one other person discover a new outlet and find peace inside their anxious mind.

Thanks for sticking around… the anxiety that comes with sharing this is unexplainable. Is it my best piece? Definitely not. Is it organized? Not entirely. Do I care? DUH. But it’s something that I NEED to share, so the person having a panic attack in the bathroom doesn’t need to. I’m willing to be vulnerable to the world so others don’t have to. I’m okay with that.