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I’ve been much more anxious than usual so I’ve been trying to figure out what exactly my anxiety means. My anxiety tends to start with a single intrusive thought that I give a little too much attention to. The intrusive thought that maybe the random waiter at a restaurant drugged my diet coke leads to tiny sips (if any) and an entire night anxiously awaiting symptoms of poisoning. I go back and forth wondering if I should tell someone. If I tell, people with think I’m batshit crazy, but if I don’t and I die, no one will know what happened. That’s only one of the crazy scenarios that consumes my mind on an almost daily basis.

So past the initial thought of these extremely unlikely life-threatening scenarios, what am I so afraid of? Why do I let my life be controlled by the fear of death? Why can’t I enjoy it without waiting for it to end?

Because I’m terrified I’ll never get to live.

Recently, I was working in a guided journal and a blank page sat with the prompt: what are you fearful of? Holy shit, what am I fearful of?? What am I not fearful of is the shorter answer. That question could have so many easy answers: death, poisoning, black holes, heart attacks, etc. But, I didn’t let myself answer so simply. What I’m actually fearful of is existing without living. I’m scared of always feeling like I’m riding in the passenger’s seat of my own life.

Without sounding pitiful or upset, a lot of my life has been used just existing. You can’t live a full life from hospital rooms and you certainly can’t live when you don’t give your body the fuel to. In my currently healthy body, I’m starting to notice all that I’ve missed. Watching everyone I grew up with graduate, knowing that I have a while to go reminds me of all the living I haven’t done yet. Spending months falling for someone who might not ever be capable of loving me reminds me of all the people I’ve missed and all the relationships I’ve ruined because I wasn’t alive enough to be in them.

I long for love and adventure and a happiness that is so great I forget what it feels like to hurt. I haven’t experienced that yet. I’m terrified I might not ever. Some of it is me not taking responsibility for living, I can hide behind my fear and never have to risk living a truly unfulfilling life. If I never try, I never fail and I can blame not trying instead of the possibility that who I am is a failure. Truth be told, I’m so scared that I’m unloveable, unworthy, and “too broken” that I punish myself by not allowing myself to live. I have to question every single relationship because I’m so convinced that I deserve abandonment so I run people off. My biggest fear is that people will see me the way I see myself.