You Seem Fine

“You seem fine. I mean, I would never know you have such bad anxiety. You seem okay.”

“I am fine. I mean, I am okay. But, I suffer from obsessive, intrusive thoughts. I worry all the time. I can’t seem to get out of my own way no matter how hard I try. I have come a long way since I was first diagnosed, but I still have a long way to go.”

I keep replaying this conversation in my head that I had with a stranger while relaxing in a lagoon in the Bahamas. Part of me was nervous about potentially oversharing, but another part of me wanted to talk about it, wanted to be open and candid about it. Clearly, this woman did not know much about anxiety. Many people with anxiety disorders seem fine and okay on the surface because they are functioning, but they suffer so deeply and painfully on the inside and/or when they’re alone. Since I was first diagnosed 19 years ago, I’ve become really good at hiding anxiety. I’m seemingly sociable, outgoing, outspoken, funny, confident, and opinionated. As I’m talking to you and laughing and feigning a good time, I’m poking and prodding at a spot on my arm that I’m afraid is melanoma, or I’m discreetly taking my pulse to see if it’s elevated and worrying that means I could potentially be having a heart attack. You’re talking to me and I’m responding, but I’m worried about getting sick, dying prematurely, doing something wrong, leaving the stove on, having enough money, or, at that particular moment, getting stung by a jellyfish. My mind is never still, even when I want it to be. So, while I may seem fine and okay, I so desperately want to be more than that.

It’s easy to spot those who don’t understand anxiety. Sure, I seem fine and okay…because, technically, I am, but I don’t want to just be fine and okay. But, there are times when I am also not fine and okay, but I’ve become really skilled at concealing that. Those who understand anxiety understand that suffering isn’t always obvious. Those with anxiety are often high-functioning, seemingly organized, and very composed. I’ve heard many times that people are surprised to hear I suffer from anxiety because I am so strong, so smart, so happy, etc. I used to think that was a good thing, that I shouldn’t show others how I was feeling or share with them what I go through, as though I should be ashamed of the disorder. But now, even when I question whether or not I should say something, I do it anyway. To heal. To create awareness. For help. For catharsis.

And I’m sure some people think I’m crazy when they hear I have anxiety and when I explain what that entails. And I’m sure others think that makes me weak and fragile. But, I am none of those things. The anxiety that has stolen so much of my life from me has actually strengthened me. It has taught me so much about who I am, what I have been through, and how I have been affected by my experiences. It, in a strange way, has protected me for so many years from so many people and things. I am courageous, smart, strong, funny, outgoing, and sociable, but I also have anxiety. All of those things can co-exist. They are not mutually exclusive.

So, as I reflect on the beautiful vacation I just took, the people I met and the conversations I had, and the chaos in my mind that ensued as I prepared for the trip, I remind myself to be gentle with myself, to be kind to myself and speak to and about myself with loving kindness because I, of all people, understand what it feels like to simultaneously be okay and not okay.