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.
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