anxiety

A look at anxiety in its many forms and manifestations; what is the nature of this specific pattern of extreme fear and worry?

I Woke Up Dead
Laying in my bed.. Unable to move, eyes roaming around to a familiar sight. My bedroom, the same walls, the same posters on them, the same door I left cracked before I laid down to sleep. But something is different. Physically unable to move my arms or legs or any part of my body. Paralyzed to my mattress I slowly start to panic. I started to scream out, but my tone mummified, and no sound was coming out.
By S.M.E4 years ago in Psyche
Camping
I’m cold. It’s the first thing I realize when I wake up. The second is that I should be asleep and I’m not. Did I mention I hate camping? Not only is it dark outside and again I say cold. Here in nature lacks the noise of civilization. I find it far from peaceful. Animals are not quiet. Insects continue to buzz even with the moon shining bright. Of course for many of them, it’s time to be awake. I wish I could say the same.
By Adrian Hollomon4 years ago in Psyche
All You Need to Know About Anxiety & Effective Anxiety Management
The body's normal response to stress is anxiety. Anxiety is a sensation where a person feels fearful or apprehensive about what is going to happen in the future. Certain situations such as speaking in front of a large audience, the first day of college, result day etc. can make a person feel nervous and fearful. Getting anxious in these situations is quite normal for a person. Moreover, anxiety is sometimes healthy as it helps a person to prepare and plan more efficiently. But if a person gets anxious even in simple and everyday activities, then they might need to seek professional help.
By Luca Grout4 years ago in Psyche
Homichlophobia
Ever since I was little, I had a fear of fog. It was triggered when my dad went to take my sister and me to get a Christmas tree on a December night. The road was in a rural area and there were no lights on the streets. The fog was so dense that he turned down the radio because he was too distracted. I could not read my dad’s mind, but I felt that we had the same thought: please just let us get home safe. Then, out of nowhere...my dad ran over a person. He came out of nowhere and was wearing dark clothing. The man did not live. He was only 23. My father was so scared, he drove off.
By A.A.C.4 years ago in Psyche
Anxiety: My Wife's Most Narcissistic Relationship
How would you feel if you found out your spouse was in another relationship? How would you feel if the one with which they were in a relationship could pop up at any time, no matter the day, no matter the time, no matter what you two are doing?
By Randell Gresham4 years ago in Psyche
Memorizing the floorplans while everyone else was studying for middle school midterms.
I'm crying so hard that drool is sliding down my lips into a puddle on the floor between my knees. Holding my ears and slowly rocking, my eyes blurred with tears.
By Jaded Savior Blog4 years ago in Psyche
Crisis Runs Cold
Frosted with bitterness, sprinkled with self loathing and ruefully self-aware. Trials, falls, failures. Her righteous rage poised spear-like at whomever dared approach. It would take Spartan strength to hold a gaze so heavy as hers. Why must the torturesome memories of being wanted, happy and safe remain? Those realities far gone from her life, yet unceasingly haunting. Not unlike a long dead lover. Too much a part of her to release, yet now too foreign to remember why she held on. Unwelcome were flashbacks of "the good days." With arachnid swiftness, they were enwebbed and committed back to the furthest recesses of her psyche. Memories are not inherently cruel...except when they are. Frozen snow crunched rudely under her boots. The sound reminiscent of a thoughtless child open-mouth masticating hard candies. The harsh, consistent sound rankling her to the core. Hastening her footsteps, she deftly avoided the filthy roadside slush. Kicking a dirty snow pile and ending up with a used hypodermic needle piercing through her shoe as a kid, well, it taught her not to go bothering what ought not to be bothered. Vividly visible in the winter air, a ragged sigh incurred whimsical winter contemplation. Such a shame this raw December morning couldn't swallow her up; rendering her one with the universe. Birthing her anew, pure, as unsullied snow. Perhaps, mercifully, allowing her to melt away forgotten, upon winter's end. Spring felt more like idealism than renewal, and her current internal season had no end in sight. Abysmal anhedonia buried all joy, all hope. Her soul became Pompeian, blindly choked in post-Vesuvian ash. A lightless, brumal night. Horoscope. The topography, a screaming silence of sunless skies, rabbit holes and slippery slopes. Her pitcher plant mind, patently unwilling to release its prey. Suicidally consuming at its own excruciating leisure, any positivity that dare arise. Growth destroys with a mighty closed fist. It must be so. The seeds of healing require openheartedness. Darkness despises a flourishing flower. Keep pace. Cover your existential disarray. Blend seamlessly into the background. Living is self defense. Self defense is remaining alive. She walked on. Approaching the stark, imposing psychiatric office, icy blasts of wind bit mercilessly at her face. Jaw clenched and body shivering, she wished she'd worn that hideous pink wool scarf. A gift, of course. Bright colors repulsed her, the way fresh carrion might repulse another. The value was in its warmth, paired with a rare sentimentality. It felt like a hug from her late Grandmother every time she wore it. Ugly, still. Breathe. You're late. Oh well. You showed up. Where does your "give a fuck" hide? Glaringly obvious, your giving of fucks is sparse. Hold on tight to that tattered half-a-fuck you have left. Or fuck it, don't. After choosing the furthest fold up metal chair from the other freaks and presiding therapist, the nearly unendurable Dialectical Behavioral Therapy commenced. "Therapist". She scoffed to herself. A nauseatingly typical, neo-hippie, midlife twat who went in big for archetypal blame games and self-help spoon-feeding. First always came her favorite, the "individual check-in." AKA, let's coax out your naked soul for public judgment. A dead rose by any other name. Ghastly, forced socialization with women she'd never see outside this room. Devoid of truth or meaning. Perfunctory. Being in an all women's group would be comforting, they said. It was not. At. All. Breezily, she navigated through the insipid psycho-mockery being inflicted upon her. Controlled tones. Calculatedly vague, monosyllabic replies. "Good." "Fine." "Yes." "No." Appropriately timed affirmative nods. Controlling her micro-expressions for a face that appeared comfortable. People paid less attention that way. Mark that as success. Staring blankly out the single bay window offered no relief. Swirling sparkling fractals, innumerable, drifted earthward from the foreboding gray sky. How might freezing to death feel? In a way, she already knew. Shrugging internally, she'd ceased seeking pity long ago. This wretched hour of
By C.J. Jaye4 years ago in Psyche
Sunday Sessions
I'm constantly anxious these days. I feel like the woman in the photograph. As if I'm staring down the rest of my life in this very moment and I... I have to do something. Right? Well, maybe not. One of the hardest lessons I've learnt (and still continue to learn) is that patience is definitely a virtue. Not just in terms of high moral standards, more-so in terms of me trying to be a better person, each and every day. You simply must be patient in the grind. It's that patience that gives you a chance to think; that pause. That pause to think, then to prioritize and finally make a decision. A lot of our decisions are based too much in anxiety. I get it though. I'm anxious too, all the time. In these moments my mind is like a prison. I second-guess my instincts and the whole decision-making process gets corrupted with fear, with doubt, with anxiety.
By Maco4 years ago in Psyche
Social Anxiety
I have social anxiety and had to deal with it at the age of 5. My parents haven't noticed that I would have it. Until they took me to the doctors. My family doctor had told them that I have social anxiety. They tried different things to help me but it didn't help. I had to deal with my anxiety for 15 years. And I didn't let it stop me from taking over my life. I'm working on it every day.
By Shalini Gounden4 years ago in Psyche
Coping with Founder Anxiety
I’ve already been out this morning for a walk, got my cup of coffee from a local petrol pump (the Costa inside it). Listened to some of a new audible I started this morning ‘Go For No’ by Richard Fenton (decent start and allegory for success in sales) and am now sat down to write.
By Deepak Shukla4 years ago in Psyche
My History of Anxiety, Pt 2
I recently wrote about my history with anxiety, extending all the way back to my childhood and the odd way it manifested itself back then. I'm no expert on actual diagnoses or the labelling of things, but I certainly feel some of my behaviors smacked of OCD and really could have taken over my life. I am not exactly sure how I escaped that fate, since the temptation to focus on them is still there. But I do know of people who suffer from full-blown obsessive thinking and behaviors who literally can't leave the house.
By Mytoxic Family4 years ago in Psyche
A Former Self
I knew I was going to lose my first baby before it happened. I’ve struggled with mental health long enough to be able to tell the difference between anxiety and intuition. Anxiety is an irrational fear. Intuition is instinctive knowing.
By Jessie Waddell4 years ago in Psyche