Sunday, October 18, 2015


Posted by Abby at 9:44 PM 0 comments
I am always worrying. I worry about everything and nothing. I worry about the fact that I'm worrying too much, and no one else worries this much, and what am I even worried about, and there must be something wrong with me, and oh no everyone can see that I'm stressed and overthinking something dumb, and now they are all judging me.  I worry about little things, like if people on the elevator are talking about me when I have my headphones in.  Or does the person sitting next to me in class think I'm fidgeting too much. Or did everyone hear my voice shake when I said my name for attendance. I worry about big things, like being unsuccessful in my career. Or people thinking I eat too much and exercise too little. Or all of my friends replacing me with better people.

Someone told me the other day that I looked like a loser because I was sitting alone at a party.  What they didn't know was that in order to get to that party, I had to talk with a friend on the phone for an hour, text my roommate to ask dumb questions about the party (How many people are there? How are they dressed? I don't know, do you really think I should go?), and meet another friend for 20 minutes to help talk me into it. They didn't know that I was proud of myself just for making it there. And yet they were able to confirm all of my worries in that moment.

My friend told me people who don't live with anxiety don't understand it. That's why some kid at a party told me I looked like a loser. That's why I was told I should just "chill out" instead of talking to someone about my issues.  That's why my friend laughed at my face turning red when I had to talk in front of a crowd.

And yeah, my friend is right. People who don't live with anxiety don't understand it. But that doesn't make it any less shitty.

absterdam Copyright © 2012 Design by Antonia Sundrani Vinte e poucos