Anxiety Momster

Category: Anxiety

  • Dear Anxiety: Healing Doesn’t Look Like I Thought It Would

    Dear Anxiety,

    When I first started trying to heal, I thought it would be a straight line.
    I thought I’d hit milestones, check off boxes, and eventually leave you behind like a bad memory.

    But healing with you isn’t neat.
    It’s messy.
    It’s confusing.
    It’s two steps forward, three steps back, and sometimes just sitting still and surviving.

    Some days, I feel strong.
    Other days, I feel like the same scared, exhausted person I was at my worst.

    Healing doesn’t mean you’re gone.
    It means I’m learning how to live without letting you control every part of me.

    I thought healing would feel like a victory parade.
    Instead, it feels like a quiet, stubborn decision I make over and over again:
    I will not give up on myself.

    Even when you scream.
    Even when fear clouds my mind.
    Even when doubt seeps in.

    Healing isn’t loud.
    It isn’t obvious.
    Sometimes it’s as small as breathing through one more panic wave.
    Sometimes it’s celebrating the moments you didn’t completely ruin.

    And that’s enough for me.

    I’m healing.
    Messy, imperfect, beautiful healing.

    You don’t get to take that from me.

    — Shanice

  • Dear Anxiety: I’m Learning to Live Alongside You

    Dear Anxiety,

    For a long time, I thought the goal was to get rid of you completely.
    To silence you.
    To fight you into nonexistence.

    And maybe that’s still the dream —
    But I’m starting to realize something:
    Maybe healing doesn’t always mean making you disappear.
    Maybe it means learning to live alongside you without letting you run the show.

    I don’t like you.
    I don’t welcome you.
    But I’m learning that I don’t have to fear you the way I used to.

    You can show up, pounding at the door of my mind,
    but I don’t have to let you move in and rearrange my whole life every time.

    I can feel the fear without letting it decide for me.
    I can notice the panic without spiraling every single time.
    I can acknowledge your voice without letting it become my truth.

    Living with you isn’t easy.
    There are days you still knock the wind out of me.
    There are moments I still feel like I’m back at square one.
    But I’m not.

    Every breath I take without letting you take over — that’s progress.
    Every moment I choose to keep going despite the fear — that’s strength.
    Every small decision I make for me and not for you — that’s healing.

    I’m not perfect at this.
    Some days, I still stumble.
    Some days, you still scream louder than I’d like to admit.

    But I’m not running from you anymore.
    I’m learning how to live.
    I’m learning how to stay.
    I’m learning how to be me — even with you standing in the background.

    You don’t get to erase my life.
    Not anymore.

    I’m taking it back.
    One shaky, stubborn, beautiful step at a time.

    — 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. 🖤

  • Dear Anxiety: You Don’t Get to Steal My Joy

    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. 🖤

  • Dear Anxiety: When Fear Feels Louder Than Hope

    Dear Anxiety,

    Some days, no matter how hard I try, your voice is louder than anything else.
    You wrap your hands around my mind and squeeze until all I can hear is the worst-case scenario.
    You shout over the good things, drown out the small wins, smother the sparks of hope I try so hard to hold onto.

    You tell me danger is everywhere.
    You tell me I’m one breath away from disaster.
    You make my body feel like a battlefield even when I’m sitting in a safe, quiet room.

    Today was one of those days.

    Today, your fear felt bigger than my dreams.
    Louder than my logic.
    Heavier than my hope.

    But here’s what you didn’t realize:
    Even when you were roaring inside my head, something quieter survived.

    A tiny, stubborn flicker of hope stayed lit.
    It wasn’t loud.
    It wasn’t flashy.
    It was just there — steady, patient, refusing to be extinguished by your chaos.

    And that flicker?
    That is mine.
    Not yours.

    You can scream.
    You can threaten.
    You can flood my body with fear and make my hands shake and my chest ache — but you cannot have my hope.

    Even if it’s small.
    Even if it’s hidden behind tired eyes and heavy breaths.
    It still belongs to me.

    And I will protect it with everything I have.
    Because every day that I hold onto even a sliver of hope…
    Is a day you don’t win.

    I’m still here.
    I’m still breathing.
    I’m still fighting.

    You are loud, Anxiety.
    But I am louder.

    — 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. 🖤

  • Dear Anxiety: You’re Not the Boss of Me Anymore

    Every day with anxiety feels different. Some days it whispers. Some days it screams.
    I’m writing these letters to speak back to it — to take my power back, one word at a time.
    Here’s today’s letter.

    Trigger Warning: Anxiety, Mental Health Struggles
    Disclaimer: I am not a therapist or doctor. I’m just sharing my real, personal experiences living with anxiety. If you’re struggling, please reach out to a professional. You are not alone.

    For a long time, you ruled my life.
    You whispered in my ear that danger was hiding around every corner.
    You convinced me that every strange feeling in my body meant something terrible.
    You made me second-guess every decision, every plan, every moment of happiness — because what if something bad happened?
    You wrapped your hands around my chest and squeezed until breathing felt like a battle.
    You stole hours, days, years of my life — time I can’t get back.

    And for a long time, I let you.
    Not because I was weak.
    Not because I wanted to.
    But because I thought you were protecting me.

    I believed your lies.
    I believed that hyper-awareness kept me safe.
    I believed that worrying was the same thing as preparing.

    But I see you differently now.
    You’re not my protector.
    You’re not my truth-teller.
    You’re not my “gut instinct.”
    You’re fear, dressed up in a thousand different disguises.

    And here’s the thing:
    I’m tired of letting fear drive the car.
    I’m tired of shrinking myself to fit into a life that’s ruled by panic.
    I’m tired of missing out on memories, love, laughter, LIVING, because I’m too busy bracing for disaster.

    You’re still here, sure.
    You might always be here, lurking in the background.
    But you’re not the boss of me anymore.

    You don’t get to make my choices.
    You don’t get to decide how my story ends.
    You don’t get to define who I am.

    I’m learning to live with you — but on my terms.

    Some days, I’ll fight you with deep breaths and stubborn hope.
    Some days, I’ll fight you by getting out of bed, even when my heart is racing.
    Some days, fighting you will just mean showing up.

    And some days, I’ll lose.
    But that doesn’t make me weak.
    It makes me human.
    It makes me a fighter.

    You can stay in the backseat if you want.
    But I’m the one driving now.

    — 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.

  • Dear Anxiety: I’m Tired of Fighting You

    Every day with anxiety feels different. Some days it whispers. Some days it screams.
    I’m writing these letters to speak back to it — to take my power back, one word at a time.
    Here’s today’s letter.

    Trigger Warning:
    This post discusses real emotions related to anxiety and may be triggering for some readers. Please take care while reading.

    Disclaimer:
    I am not a medical professional. I share my personal journey with anxiety in hopes of connecting with others who may feel the same. Please reach out to a healthcare provider for medical advice.

    Dear Anxiety,

    I’m tired.
    I’m tired of waking up already feeling like I’m losing a battle I never agreed to fight.
    I’m tired of second-guessing every sensation, every thought, every breath.
    I’m tired of pretending I’m fine when my insides are screaming for help.

    I have tried to reason with you.
    I have tried to ignore you.
    I have tried to fight you.
    And yet, you still show up — uninvited, unwanted, unapologetic.

    You steal my peace on days that should have been beautiful.
    You make me fear things I logically know are safe.
    You make my own body feel like a stranger, a threat.
    You have turned simple moments into mountains I must climb just to survive.

    And worst of all — you make me doubt myself.
    You whisper lies in my ear that I’m weak.
    That I’ll never get better.
    That I’m broken beyond repair.

    But here’s the thing:
    Even when I’m tired, I’m still here.
    Even when it feels unbearable, I’m still breathing.
    Even when I want to give up, some tiny part of me fights back — and that part is stronger than you.

    I don’t have all the answers yet.
    Some days, I’m just surviving.
    Some days, I’m angry.
    Some days, I’m scared.
    But every day I wake up, I’m still in the fight.
    And that makes me brave in ways you’ll never understand.

    So, dear Anxiety —
    You don’t win today.
    Not because I’m fearless.
    But because I’m choosing to show up anyway.
    And that’s something you can never take from me.

    — Shanice

    If you’re fighting your own invisible battles today, know this: you are not weak for feeling tired. You are strong because you keep going. And you are never, ever alone

    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.

  • Friend or Foe: Which One Is Anxiety?

    When you think of anxiety, what comes to mind — friend or foe?
    If you’re like most of us coping with anxiety, it can feel like both.
    Sometimes it protects you. Sometimes it paralyzes you.

    The truth is: anxiety plays both roles. And learning how to work with it (instead of constantly fighting it) is a powerful step toward peace.

    What Is Anxiety — And Why Do We Have It?

    Anxiety is the body’s natural alarm system.
    Thousands of years ago, it helped humans survive threats like wild animals or dangerous weather.

    Today, anxiety still has a purpose:

    • It helps you stay alert.
    • It motivates you to prepare for important events.
    • It warns you when something feels unsafe.

    Without any anxiety, we wouldn’t be careful, responsible, or cautious.
    In healthy amounts, anxiety is a powerful friend.

    When Anxiety Becomes a Foe

    The problem starts when anxiety gets stuck in overdrive.
    Instead of protecting you from real threats, it starts sounding the alarm over everyday things — like going to work, answering the phone, or driving across town.

    When anxiety takes over, you might experience:

    • Rapid heartbeat
    • Shortness of breath
    • Upset stomach
    • Panic attacks
    • Constant “what if” thinking
    • Fear of the future

    When anxiety shows up without real danger, it stops being helpful and starts being harmful.
    This is when anxiety becomes a foe.

    Coping With Anxiety: Is It Possible?

    Absolutely.
    Even when anxiety feels huge, you can build tools to manage it.

    Healing doesn’t mean “getting rid of anxiety forever” — it means learning how to calm the alarm so that anxiety doesn’t control your life.

    Helpful tools for coping with anxiety include:

    • Journaling and mood tracking
    • Mindfulness and breathing exercises
    • Therapy or coaching
    • Limiting social media exposure
    • Building calming routines

    One powerful option is using an anxiety support journal — a space where you can track emotions, document small wins, and remind yourself of your strength.

    Final Thoughts

    Anxiety is neither completely your enemy nor completely your ally.
    It’s a natural part of you — just like any other emotion.
    It’s not here to break you.
    It’s here asking for your attention, your care, and your healing.

    You have survived every anxious day up until this moment.
    You will survive today, too.
    One moment, one breath, one gentle step at a time.

    📖 Need Extra Support on Your Anxiety Journey?

    Subscribe today to receive your free Peace Over Panic Digital Journal — a calming space filled with affirmations, mood trackers, daily check-ins, and helpful coping tools.
    It’s time to reclaim your peace, one page at a time.

    👉 Subscribe Here and Claim Your Free Journal

    You deserve to heal. You deserve to thrive. You deserve to feel peace again.

  • 💥 What a Panic Attack Feels Like (For Me)

    ⚠️ This post includes a personal account of panic attacks. If you’re feeling sensitive or anxious right now, please take care of yourself and come back when you’re ready.

    Let me be real with you — I wouldn’t wish a panic attack on anyone. But if you’ve had one, then you know. And if you haven’t? Well… maybe this can help you understand people like me a little better.

    Because panic attacks aren’t just “feeling nervous.” They’re loud. They’re messy. And they hijack your whole body like you’ve been thrown into a tornado with no warning.

    (more…)

  • Creating an Anxiety Emergency Kit: What’s Inside Mine

    ⚠️ Trigger Warning: This post discusses panic attacks and anxiety tools. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, please take care of your mental space as you read.

    Disclaimer:
    I’m not a doctor, therapist, or licensed mental health professional. I’m just a mom living with anxiety, sharing my personal experiences in hopes that they help someone else feel less alone. Nothing in this blog should be taken as medical advice. Please speak with a professional if you’re struggling — you deserve support.

    🧰 Why I have an anxiety emergency kit

    Because anxiety doesn’t make appointments.
    It doesn’t care if I’m home, in traffic, in the grocery store, or trying to sleep.
    When it hits, I need tools — not just deep breathing and good intentions.
    So I made a kit. A real one. With stuff I can grab fast when my nervous system flips out.

    This isn’t some cute Pinterest box — this is survival, comfort, grounding, and real tools that help me stay on this side of okay.

    🖤 What’s in my anxiety emergency kit:

    1. Black Pepper (yes, for real)

    Smelling black pepper helps snap my brain out of panic.
    It’s sharp, strong, grounding — and weirdly calming for me.
    I keep a tiny jar in my bag or desk. Laugh if you want, but it works.

    2. Vicks VapoRub

    Cool on the skin, strong in the nose — and mentally soothing.
    I rub it on my temples or under my nose when I feel like I’m spiraling.
    That menthol smell brings me back fast. Bonus: it feels like my grandma is hugging me.

    3. Peppermint essential oil

    When I can’t breathe right, this helps open things up.
    I use a rollerball or just take a sniff from the bottle.

    4. Chewing gum or mints

    Keeps my mouth busy and tricks my body into thinking I’m safe.
    (You don’t chew when you’re running from a lion, right?)

    5. A fidget ring or something to squeeze

    When my hands need something to do and my brain’s going a mile a minute.

    6. Cooling wipes or a mini cold pack

    For when my face is hot, my chest is tight, and I need relief now.

    7. Lavender sachet or spray

    Just a soft smell that makes me feel calmer. Not always, but sometimes it helps when nothing else does.

    8. A little notecard of reminders

    Mine says:

    “You are safe. This is anxiety. It will pass.”
    “You’ve felt this before. You’re still here.”
    “Do one thing: sip water, step outside, breathe.”

    9. Music or calming sounds

    Sometimes I throw on my headphones and play ocean waves, soft piano, or a playlist I built just for anxious moments.

    🧠 Want to make your own?

    You don’t need all the same things I have. Your kit should reflect you.
    What calms you down? What snaps you back into the moment? What comforts you when nothing else does?

    Here are some other ideas:

    • A favorite lotion or scent
    • A small comforting photo
    • A stress ball or pop fidget
    • A pack of tissues
    • A guided meditation downloaded for offline use
    • A tiny note from your kids or someone who makes you feel safe

    🖤 Final thoughts

    This kit doesn’t “cure” anxiety. But it helps me ride the wave.
    It reminds me I’m not helpless. I have tools. I have power.
    And every time I reach for it, I remind myself:
    I’ve survived this before. I’ll survive it again.

    What’s in your anxiety kit? Drop it in the comments or DM me — I love hearing what works for other people.

    Stay strong, Anxiety Fam. You’re doing amazing.

  • Sometimes I Cry and Don’t Know Why

    ⚠️ Trigger Warning: This post contains personal experiences related to anxiety, overwhelm, and emotional release. Please take care of your mental space as you read.

    Disclaimer:
    I’m not a doctor, therapist, or licensed mental health professional. I’m just a mom living with anxiety, sharing my personal experiences in hopes that they help someone else feel less alone. Nothing in this blog should be taken as medical advice. Please speak with a professional if you’re struggling — you deserve support.

    🫧 It just hits me

    There are days I wake up already on the verge of tears.
    No warning. No fight. No “bad news.” Just a heaviness in my chest that won’t go away.
    And sometimes… I cry. And I can’t even tell you why.

    There’s no one thing.
    There’s no big trigger.
    There’s just… everything. All at once.

    💔 It feels like this:

    • My throat tightens.
    • My chest feels like it’s holding in a scream.
    • My thoughts start spinning.
    • I feel guilty for crying — like I “should” be fine.
    • I feel embarrassed even when I’m alone.

    And sometimes, I cry quietly in the bathroom so no one sees.
    Sometimes, I cry in the car after holding it in all day.
    And sometimes, I just cry in bed because I don’t have the strength to do anything else.

    🧠 What I’ve realized over time:

    Sometimes the tears are for things I never had the chance to process.
    Sometimes they’re for the fear I carry in silence.
    Sometimes they’re for the pressure of being “strong” when I feel anything but.
    Sometimes they’re just because I’m exhausted.

    Crying isn’t weakness.
    It’s your nervous system trying to reset.
    It’s your body asking for grace.
    It’s your soul waving a little white flag saying, “I just need a minute.”

    💡 What helps when the tears come:

    • I stop asking “why” and just let it happen.
    • I talk to myself the way I’d talk to a friend: “It’s okay to feel this. It’s okay to not have a reason.”
    • I do something small that brings me back: wash my face, change my shirt, step outside, hug my kids.
    • I don’t shame myself for being human.

    🖤 You’re allowed to feel it.

    Even when it doesn’t make sense.
    Even when it feels “dramatic.”
    Even when no one else sees what you’re carrying.

    This is your reminder that tears are not a failure.
    They are a release.
    They are a reset.
    They are real.

    And if you cried today — or cry after reading this — that’s okay.

    Me too.