Anxiety Momster

Tag: Anxiety disorder

  • Today Was a High Functioning Anxiety Day—But I Still Showed Up

    Today Was a High Functioning Anxiety Day—But I Still Showed Up

    ⚠️ Trigger Warning: This post discusses health anxiety, panic, and fear around daily tasks.
    📌 Disclaimer: This blog shares personal experiences and is not intended to replace professional medical advice.

    Today was a high functioning anxiety day.

    That means I still did things—I got out of bed, I worked from home, I showered—but it felt like dragging myself through quicksand the whole time.

    I woke up already in panic mode.
    My chest felt off.
    My thoughts were racing.
    And the first thing I did?
    Check my heart rate. Again. And again. And again.

    Scared to Shower, But I Didn’t Want to Be Alone

    Even something as “simple” as a shower felt scary today.
    What if I got lightheaded?
    What if I panicked with no one nearby?

    So I asked my husband to shower with me. Not to fix me, just to be there.
    And he was.

    That’s what surviving looks like sometimes.

    I Still Worked—But It Wasn’t Easy

    I work from home, and I logged in like always.
    But today? I took a lot of breaks.
    I had to step away to breathe, to cry, to calm myself down.

    Every ping, every message, every task felt heavier than usual.
    But I did it. Slowly. Anxiously.
    And that still counts.

    This is what a high functioning anxiety day looks like for me:
    Smiling on the outside.
    Fighting for calm on the inside.

    I’m Not Lazy. I’m Overwhelmed.

    Some people will never understand this kind of anxiety.
    But if you’re reading this, I know you do.

    You know what it’s like to be afraid of your own body.
    To second-guess every twinge, every tight breath, every heart flutter.
    To survive an entire day without anyone knowing you were in panic mode the whole time.

    If today was that kind of day for you too—this post is for you.

    You’re not dramatic.
    You’re not weak.
    You’re just doing your best with a brain that never shuts up.

  • Supporting Loved Ones with Anxiety: What to Say and Avoid

    Supporting Loved Ones with Anxiety: What to Say and Avoid

    A Guide for Family and Friends Who Want to Support Without Hurting

    If you love someone who struggles with anxiety — whether it’s your child, partner, sibling, friend, or coworker — I want to thank you for even clicking on this post. That means you care. And caring is the first step.

    But support isn’t always easy, especially if you don’t fully understand what anxiety feels like from the inside. Sometimes, even well-meaning words can hurt.

    So let’s break it down — here’s what not to say, and what you can say instead.

    ❌ What Not to Say to Someone with Anxiety

    These phrases may come from a good place, but they often do more harm than good:

    “Just calm down.”

    If we could, we would. Anxiety isn’t a choice. It’s a physiological and emotional reaction we can’t just shut off like a light switch.

    “It’s all in your head.”

    This one stings. Yes, anxiety starts in the brain, but the symptoms are real. Chest tightness, racing heart, nausea, dizziness — it’s not imaginary.

    “You’re overreacting.”

    This phrase invalidates what the person is feeling. What seems small to you feels huge to us in the moment. It’s not about logic — it’s about panic and fear taking over.

    “You need to stop thinking so much.”

    Easier said than done. People with anxiety often can’t control the flood of thoughts. It’s not about overthinking — it’s about being stuck in survival mode.

    “Other people have it worse.”

    Comparison helps no one. Pain is pain. Dismissing someone’s struggle because others are struggling more doesn’t make anyone feel better — it makes them feel guilty on top of anxious.

    ✅ What You Can Say That Helps

    “I’m here for you. What do you need right now?”

    This is gold. It centers the person and gives them space to ask for what would help most in the moment — even if it’s just silence or sitting with them.

    “I know this feels scary, but you’re safe right now.”

    Reassurance is powerful — without dismissing the feeling. This tells us we’re not crazy for feeling scared, but gently reminds us we’re not in danger.

    “Let’s breathe together.”

    Sometimes, we just need someone to guide us through it. Matching breathing is one of the most supportive things you can do.

    “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

    Remind them that you’re in their corner — that they’re not a burden, and that their anxiety doesn’t push you away.

    💜 How to Be a Supportive Ally to Someone With Anxiety

    • Learn their triggers and ask how to avoid them.
    • Offer calm, not solutions. We don’t always want advice — we want presence.
    • Check in regularly, not just when we’re panicking.
    • Don’t make it about you. (Ex: “I don’t know what to do when you’re like this.” Instead, say: “I want to understand.”)
    • Normalize mental health conversations in everyday life.

    🙏 Final Thought: Show Up, Even When It’s Uncomfortable

    Supporting someone with anxiety isn’t about fixing them.
    It’s about sitting beside them while they feel broken — and reminding them they’re not.

    Your words have power.
    Your presence is healing.
    And sometimes, the most helpful thing you can say is simply:

    “You’re not alone. I’m here.”

    — Shanice, Anxiety Momster

    💜 Want to Help a Loved One Even More?

    Grab my free Peace Over Panic Journal + Anxiety Tracker — it’s the perfect gift to share with someone who’s struggling.

    👉 Download it here
    Includes guided check-ins, breathing logs, coping tools, and space to reflect — whether you’re the one experiencing anxiety or someone supporting them.

  • A Heartfelt Letter to Anxious Moms for Mother’s Day

    A Heartfelt Letter to Anxious Moms for Mother’s Day

    A Peaceful Letter to Anxious Moms on Mother’s Day

    ⚠️ Trigger Warning: This post gently touches on anxiety, motherhood, and emotional vulnerability.
    📌 Disclaimer: I’m not a mental health professional — just a mom sharing her heart.

    Somewhere right now, a mom is holding a cup of cold coffee, mentally making five lists while wiping away tears she hasn’t told anyone about.

    And if that mom is you — this is your reminder:
    💜 You’re doing more than enough.
    💜 You’re already worthy.
    💜 And you deserve peace today, too.

    💐 Today, Let’s Pause

    Mother’s Day isn’t just about perfect pictures or gift bags with fancy bows.
    It’s about moments like:

    • Quiet breathing before the house wakes up
    • Tiny hands hugging you tighter than usual
    • Letting yourself rest without guilt
    • Laughing even though you cried last night

    🌿 You’re Still a Good Mom If…

    • You need breaks
    • You say “not right now”
    • You don’t love every moment
    • You’re healing while parenting
    • You cry and show up anyway

    Anxiety doesn’t erase your love.
    It just makes you more intentional about holding on to the good.

    💌 A Love Letter to Moms Like Us

    To the mom with the full heart and tired spirit —
    I see you.

    You are the safe place.
    The breath of calm during the storm.
    The reason someone feels deeply loved.

    And even on the days when you don’t feel “together”…
    your presence is still a gift.

    🧘‍♀️ A Simple Practice for Today:

    Take 3 deep breaths.
    Hand on your heart.
    Say:

    “I am enough. Right now. Just as I am.”
    “I don’t have to do it all today.”
    “I deserve peace, too.”

    💜 Wishing You a Gentle, Peaceful Mother’s Day

    If today feels joyful — soak it up.
    If today feels hard — breathe through it.
    Either way, you are loved, seen, and appreciated.

    Happy Mother’s Day 💐
    From one anxious mom to another.

    — Shanice, Anxiety Momster

  • Breaking the Stigma: How I Talk to My Kids About Anxiety and Mental Health

    Breaking the Stigma: How I Talk to My Kids About Anxiety and Mental Health

    Anxiety isn’t a quiet thing in our home.
    It’s not hidden behind closed doors or swept under the rug.
    We talk about mental health openly — because in this family, it’s not taboo. It’s real. It’s personal.

    As a mom who lives with severe anxiety and panic attacks, I made a promise to myself: my children would never feel ashamed or confused about what they’re feeling inside. So we talk. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.

    Supporting a Child Through Panic Attacks

    My 13-year-old experiences panic attacks that stop her in her tracks — chest tightness, racing thoughts, tears, and fear that something is terribly wrong. I’ve seen her clutch her chest and cry, “I can’t breathe.”

    I’ve been there too.

    In those moments, I don’t try to fix her. I sit with her.
    We breathe together:

    • Inhale for 4 seconds
    • Hold for 4 seconds
    • Exhale for 6 seconds

    Over and over, until the panic eases.

    This is how we manage anxiety as a family. This is what it looks like — connection, calm, and compassion.

    Teaching Kids How to Cope with Anxiety

    We’re not just helping our teen — even our youngest is learning.

    My 4-year-old doesn’t fully understand the word “anxiety,” but she knows how to breathe in and out when someone’s upset. She’s seen it in action. Now, she’ll walk up and say, “Breathe with me,” to her older siblings when they’re frustrated.

    She’s learning early what most of us didn’t learn until adulthood —
    your emotions matter, and you’re not alone.

    Why Talking About Mental Health Matters in Parenting

    Breaking the mental health stigma starts at home. In our house, we use words like:

    • Triggered
    • Overwhelmed
    • Calm down space
    • Grounding
    • Anxiety attack

    We don’t say “stop crying.” We don’t say “you’re being dramatic.”
    We validate, support, and walk through it together.

    How to Start Mental Health Conversations With Your Kids

    If you’re not sure where to begin, here’s what’s helped us:

    • Be honest — Let them know it’s okay to feel anxious or scared.
    • Share your own experience (in age-appropriate ways).
    • Practice breathing exercises as a family — even when no one is anxious.
    • Create a calm corner or safe space where kids can retreat and reset.
    • Use children’s books or videos to explain what anxiety feels like.
    • Normalize mental health days the same way we do sick days.

    We Get Through Anxiety Together — One Breath at a Time

    I won’t pretend it’s easy. Some days I feel like I’m barely hanging on. But even in the mess, I know this matters. Talking about anxiety with my kids has brought us closer. It’s helped them feel seen. And it’s helped me heal in ways I never expected.

    In this home, we breathe together. We cry together.
    And we show each other — you don’t have to go through anxiety alone.

    💬 Let’s Talk About It… Together

    If you’re a parent navigating anxiety — yours, your child’s, or both — you are not alone. This is hard, but you’re doing the best you can. And that is enough.

    ✨ Want extra support and free calming tools?
    Download my free Peace Over Panic Digital Journal and Anxiety Tracker — created from our real life, with love, for moms just like you.

    👉 Grab your free copy here
    ✨ Includes daily check-ins, weekly reflections, and breathing tools for tough moments.

    And if this post resonated with you, drop a comment, share it with a friend, or just breathe with me in spirit.

    We’re breaking the stigma, one breath and one honest conversation at a time.

    With love,
    Shanice – Anxiety Momster

  • Dear Anxiety, Stop Making Me Afraid to Live

    Dear Anxiety,

    You showed up again today.

    Right when I was trying to eat.
    Right when I was laughing with my kids.
    Right when I felt a tiny moment of peace—you snuck in and ruined it.

    You made my chest feel tight.
    You made my head buzz.
    You made me question if I was about to die, or just spiral again.

    And the worst part?
    You made me scared to trust my own body.

    I can’t even enjoy food without wondering if it’s going to make me sick.
    I can’t sit in silence without hearing my heart beat too loud.
    I can’t tell the difference between a panic attack and a health scare anymore—and that’s what terrifies me the most.

    You’ve stolen so much from me.

    Moments. Memories. Energy.
    My confidence. My joy. My damn peace.

    But you know what?

    I’m still showing up.

    I’m still writing this.
    I still got out of bed.
    I still laughed today—nervously, maybe—but it still counts.

    I’m learning how to track you.
    To name you.
    To strip you of your power every time I put words to what you’re doing to me.

    So no, I’m not cured.
    I still check my blood sugar more than I should.
    I still wonder if this headache is something worse.
    I still panic when I feel pressure in my chest.

    But now?
    I write through it.
    I track it.
    I talk back to you.

    And every time I do, you lose a little more grip.

    Sincerely,
    The girl you thought you could silence.
    —Shanice

  • Dear Anxiety: I Forgive Myself for the Bad Days

    Dear Anxiety,

    For a long time, I hated myself for the days you won.
    The days I couldn’t get out of bed.
    The days I canceled plans.
    The days I cried and shook and felt like a burden to everyone around me.

    I carried so much shame.
    I thought every bad day meant I was failing.
    That if I was strong enough, I wouldn’t feel this way.

    But that’s not true.

    Bad days aren’t failures.
    They’re part of healing.
    They’re part of living.

    So today, I’m choosing forgiveness.

    I forgive myself for the days I was too tired to fight.
    I forgive myself for the panic attacks, the canceled plans, the missed moments.
    I forgive myself for surviving the best way I knew how at the time.

    You don’t get to weaponize my past against me anymore.

    Every hard day I lived through is a testament to my strength — not my weakness.

    I am allowed to have bad days.
    I am allowed to be human.
    I am allowed to forgive myself.

    I am proud of how far I’ve come, even if the road was messy.

    And I’m not carrying shame with me anymore.

    — Shanice

  • Dear Anxiety: I’m Done Hiding From You

    Dear Anxiety,

    For a long time, I tried to hide you.
    Pretend you weren’t there.
    Smile through the panic.
    Laugh through the fear.
    Nod through the moments where my body was screaming inside.

    I thought if I just stayed quiet, if I just kept pretending, you’d leave me alone.

    But you didn’t.

    Hiding didn’t make you disappear.
    It only made me disappear.
    Piece by piece, I lost parts of myself trying to make you less noticeable to the world.

    Not anymore.

    I’m done hiding from you.
    I’m done pretending to be okay when I’m crumbling inside.
    I’m done acting like you’re not heavy when some days you’re too much to carry alone.

    I will not be ashamed of my struggle.
    I will not let silence be your weapon.

    Talking about you doesn’t make me weak.
    Admitting my fear doesn’t make me broken.
    Sharing my battles doesn’t make me less.

    It makes me free.

    You don’t get to make me hide anymore.

    I am showing up.
    I am speaking out.
    I am standing tall — even with the weight of you still trying to drag me down.

    I’m done hiding.
    You don’t get that power anymore.

    — Shanice

  • Dear Anxiety: You Are Not My Truth

    Dear Anxiety,

    You speak with such authority sometimes.
    Like you know me better than I know myself.
    Like your fear-filled stories are facts.
    Like your panic-driven warnings are the ultimate truth.

    But they’re not.

    You are not my truth.

    You are fear.
    You are worst-case-scenarios.
    You are doubt dressed up as protection.

    You tell me my body isn’t safe — but my body is stronger than you know.
    You tell me I can’t handle hard things — but I already have, over and over again.
    You tell me I’m broken — but healing is happening, even in ways I can’t always see.

    You are loud.
    You are convincing.
    But you are not right.

    I don’t have to believe every thought you send swirling through my mind.
    I don’t have to obey every warning you scream into my chest.

    I can listen.
    I can notice.
    But I don’t have to agree.

    I am learning to tell the difference between you and me.

    You are not my truth.

    I am.

    And my truth is this:
    I am capable.
    I am resilient.
    I am healing.

    And no matter how loud you get,
    my truth will always be louder.

    — Shanice

  • I’m Having a Panic Attack Right Now: The Real, Raw, Unfiltered Version

    Trigger Warning: Panic Attacks, Health Anxiety, Raw Emotion
    Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional. I am just a woman trying to survive the war in my head. Please don’t take this as medical advice—this is my truth, my experience, and maybe yours too.

    Right now… as I write this… I am in it.
    Not recovering from it. Not reflecting back on it.
    IN IT.

    My head feels like pressure is building—like something inside is about to snap. I felt a “pop” earlier, not painful, but terrifying. It felt like a gunshot went off near me, except it was inside my head. And now I’m spiraling.

    My neck hurts. My shoulder aches. My arm feels weird. My chest feels… funny—not tight, not painful—just off. And my anxiety is feeding off every single symptom like it’s a buffet.

    And the scariest part?
    My mind doesn’t believe I’m okay.

    Even though I’ve had tests. Even though I’ve been told everything looks fine. Even though I’ve been here before and came out okay.
    My brain doesn’t trust it.

    People say “it’s just anxiety,” but they don’t understand how dismissive that sounds when your entire body is screaming that something is wrong.

    It’s not just anxiety. It’s:

    • My chest tingling and me wondering if I’m dying.
    • My head feeling like there’s a rubber band wrapped around the front.
    • My back hurting from how I’ve been laying with my laptop, and me thinking it’s something worse.
    • Me sitting here, literally begging God to let me be okay.

    I tried laying down—didn’t help.
    Tried rubbing Vicks under my nose—gave me a second of relief before the fear came back stronger.
    Tried breathing, drinking water, moving around, telling myself it’s just panic… but none of that stuck.

    I want to cry. I want to run. I want to scream and crawl out of my skin.
    But mostly, I just want it to be over.

    I’m so tired of living like this.
    So tired of wondering if every pain is the one they missed.
    So tired of feeling like I’m walking a tightrope between calm and chaos.

    Sometimes I feel like a prisoner in my own body, and anxiety is the warden.
    No escape. No peace. Just me, the thoughts, and this endless cycle of fear.

    But if you’re reading this…

    You’re not alone.

    This post isn’t about “how I conquered it” or “5 ways to stop a panic attack.”
    It’s just the truth. The moment. The reality of what this feels like right now.

    I know I’ll get through it. I always do.
    But right now, in this moment… I just needed to say:

    It’s happening. I’m scared. And I’m still here.

    And if you’re still here too, scared in your own way, I see you.

    Let’s breathe—one shaky inhale, one tearful exhale—until it passes.

    We’re not broken. We’re not crazy.
    We’re just surviving something invisible.
    And that’s brave as hell.

    Need something to help you track it all and breathe through the chaos?
    I made something just for us. Grab my Peace Over Panic anxiety journal + tracker, completely free:
    Download it here

  • Dear Anxiety: Some Days, I Just Need to Cry

    Dear Anxiety,

    Some days, fighting you feels too heavy.
    Some days, carrying all this fear, all this tension, all this weight — feels like too much.

    And on those days, I don’t want advice.
    I don’t want affirmations.
    I don’t want to hear how strong I am.

    I just need to cry.

    Not because I’m weak.
    Not because I’m giving up.
    But because crying is a release that my body, my heart, and my soul sometimes desperately need.

    I don’t owe you constant strength, Anxiety.
    I don’t owe you constant toughness.
    I don’t have to be a warrior every single second.

    Some days, I’m just a human who’s tired.
    Who’s scared.
    Who’s overwhelmed.

    And today, I let myself cry.
    Without shame.
    Without judgment.
    Without apology.

    Because healing doesn’t always look brave.
    Sometimes it just looks like tears falling quietly in the dark —
    and still waking up tomorrow to try again.

    I’m not weak for crying.
    I’m strong because I let myself feel.

    And no matter how many tears fall,
    you still don’t break me.

    — Shanice