Dear Anxiety,
You have stolen enough from me.
Moments that should have been filled with laughter — you filled with fear.
Milestones that should have felt like victories — you shadowed with doubt.
Ordinary days that could have been peaceful — you twisted into battles.
You tried to make me believe that being happy was dangerous.
That if I smiled too big or laughed too loud, something bad would happen.
You trained me to brace for impact even when nothing was wrong.
But I’m starting to see you for what you really are:
You’re a thief.
You sneak in quietly, tiptoeing into my good moments, and whisper “what if” until the joy fades away.
Not anymore.
I’m reclaiming my moments — messy, imperfect, beautiful moments.
I’m letting myself feel joy even if my hands are still a little shaky.
I’m letting myself laugh even if fear is waiting around the corner.
I’m letting myself live even when you tell me it’s not safe to.
Because joy is not something I have to earn by worrying enough.
Joy is not something you get to dangle in front of me like a trick.
Joy is mine.
It always has been.
It always will be.
You might still show up, uninvited and unwanted.
You might still try to plant seeds of fear in the middle of my happiness.
But I’m not giving you the power to steal from me anymore.
I choose to protect my joy.
I choose to celebrate my good days without apology.
I choose to believe that I deserve peace — even when you’re screaming that I don’t.
You don’t get to win.
Not today.
Not tomorrow.
Not ever.
— Shanice
These are my real, raw letters to my anxiety.
Some days, it wins. Some days, I fight back.
Either way, these words are proof that I’m still here, still breathing, still trying.
If you’re fighting too, you’re not alone. 🖤
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