Anxiety Momster

Tag: self-care

  • 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.

  • Breaking Down the ‘Strong Mom’ Stereotype

    Breaking Down the ‘Strong Mom’ Stereotype

    Challenging the Unrealistic Expectations That Are Breaking Us

    ⚠️ Trigger Warning: This post contains honest reflections on mental health, motherhood, emotional burnout, and breaking societal expectations.
    📌 Disclaimer: I am not a mental health professional. This is a personal reflection based on my lived experience. Please seek professional help if you’re struggling.

    Every time someone tells me, “You’re so strong,” I flinch a little inside.
    Not because I’m ungrateful.
    But because sometimes, I don’t want to be strong.
    Sometimes, I’m barely holding it together.

    And yet — moms like me, especially those of us managing anxiety, health conditions, and motherhood — get labeled “strong” like it’s a badge we’re supposed to wear with pride.

    But what if I told you that label is crushing us?

    The “Strong Mom” Stereotype Is a Lie

    Here’s what I know:

    • Strong moms cry in the bathroom while the food is cooking
    • Strong moms carry health anxiety and still show up for work and their kids
    • Strong moms sit in ER parking lots wondering if they’re dying or just panicking
    • Strong moms teach their children to breathe while trying not to fall apart themselves

    But the world only sees the outside.
    The clean house, the packed lunches, the calm voice.
    They don’t see the heart racing, the trembling hands, the exhaustion behind the eyes.

    I’ve lived this. I live it every day.

    I take my meds.
    I monitor my blood sugar.
    I fight through low iron, kidney issues, and the constant worry that something worse is lurking.

    And while I’m fighting all of that, I’m also homeschooling, cleaning, working, and trying to be emotionally available to five kids.

    So yeah — I’m “strong.”

    But I’m also human.
    And I shouldn’t have to hide the human parts just to be accepted.

    What We Really Need

    We don’t need to be strong all the time.
    We need support. Grace. Room to fall apart.
    We need people to stop saying “you’ve got this” and start asking, “How can I help?”

    We need to normalize:

    • Crying in front of our kids
    • Saying “I need a break” without guilt
    • Asking for help
    • Not always being okay

    Because strength isn’t about never breaking down — it’s about being honest when you do.

    Letting Go of the Myth

    If you’re a mom reading this and you feel the weight of that “strong” label — I want you to know something:

    You don’t have to carry it alone.
    You can be real. You can be raw.
    You can be soft and struggling and still be a good mom.
    You can fall apart and still be worthy of love.

    Strong isn’t the goal.
    Whole, supported, and safe — that’s what we deserve.

    — Shanice, Anxiety Momster

    💬 Want to Keep the Conversation Going?

    Grab my free Peace Over Panic Digital Journal + Tracker — built for women like us who carry too much and need a soft place to land.

    👉 Download it here
    Includes daily check-ins, mood logs, affirmations, and room to just be human.

  • Conquering Anxiety: A Workbook for Empowerment

    Conquering Anxiety: A Workbook for Empowerment

    ⚠️ Trigger Warning: This post discusses mental health and anxiety-related thoughts that may be distressing to some readers. Please proceed with care.

    📌 Disclaimer: I am not a licensed therapist or medical provider. I share personal experiences, tools, and reflections that have helped me manage anxiety. Always consult a professional for medical or mental health guidance.

    Some days, anxiety whispers.
    Other days, it screams.

    Mine has said things like:
    “You’re not a good mom.”
    “You’re falling apart.”
    “Everyone’s tired of you.”

    Sound familiar?
    Yeah… I thought so.

    I created this workbook because anxiety’s voice had taken up too much damn space in my head — and I needed a way to fight back. A way to talk louder. A way to come home to myself.

    That’s where “You vs. Anxiety” was born.

    It starts with just one page — the one I’m sharing with you today.
    A page that says: “I see you. I hear what anxiety says. But here’s what I say back.”

    ✨ Preview Page: “Anxiety Says…”

    This isn’t just a worksheet. It’s a shift.
    From fear to truth. From panic to power.

    🖤 View the free preview page here when you subscribe

    You’re not broken. You’re not weak. You’re just someone who’s been fighting battles no one else can see.
    And now — you’re learning how to fight differently.

    The full workbook is coming soon. For now, I hope this first page reminds you of who the hell you are underneath all the noise.

    We’re not aiming for perfect here — just peace.

    — 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: Even on My Hardest Days, I Show Up

    Dear Anxiety,

    You try to tell me that bad days erase all the progress I’ve made.
    That if I have one breakdown, one panic attack, one wave of fear — I’m back at square one.

    But you’re wrong.

    Even on my hardest days,
    I show up.

    Even when my chest is tight and my mind is racing,
    I still breathe.
    I still move.
    I still live.

    It might not look pretty.
    It might not look brave.
    Sometimes it’s just getting dressed.
    Sometimes it’s just answering a text.
    Sometimes it’s just making it through another hour.

    But it’s showing up —
    and that’s enough.

    You don’t get to define strength by how loud or visible it is.
    You don’t get to decide what counts.

    I decide.
    And every shaky breath, every tear-streaked smile, every tiny choice to keep going counts.

    You can make the days hard.
    You can make the nights long.
    But you cannot make me disappear.

    I am here.
    Even when it’s hard.
    Especially when it’s hard.

    — Shanice

  • Dear Anxiety: I Am Stronger Than You Think

    Dear Anxiety,

    You’ve seen me at my lowest.
    You’ve watched me collapse under the weight of fear.
    You’ve seen the nights I couldn’t sleep, the mornings I couldn’t move, the days I thought I couldn’t survive.

    And yet — here I am.

    Still breathing.
    Still fighting.
    Still standing.

    You underestimate me.
    You think that because I feel fear, I am fear.
    You think that because I cry, I am broken.
    You think that because I stumble, I’ll never rise.

    But every tear, every panic attack, every hard moment I’ve survived has made me stronger.

    Not because they didn’t hurt —
    but because they did, and I’m still here anyway.

    I am not weak because of you.
    I am stronger because of everything you’ve thrown at me.

    I have scars, yes.
    But scars mean healing.
    Scars mean survival.
    Scars mean I fought through it.

    And I will keep fighting.
    Not because it’s easy.
    But because I know I deserve the life you keep trying to steal from me.

    I am stronger than you think, Anxiety.
    And I’m just getting started.

    — 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: Today, You Won — But I’m Still Here

    Dear Anxiety,

    Today, you won.
    You pulled me under before I even had a chance to catch my breath.
    You tightened your grip around my chest and flooded my mind with fear.
    You made every small task feel impossible, every breath feel heavy.

    Today, you convinced me I wasn’t safe, even though nothing around me had changed.
    You made my own body feel foreign, threatening, fragile.
    You tricked me into doubting myself — again.

    And you know what?
    I’m not going to pretend you didn’t get the better of me today.
    You did.

    I canceled plans.
    I cried in the bathroom.
    I second-guessed every heartbeat, every thought, every moment.

    But here’s what you didn’t take:
    I’m still here.

    You won the battle today,
    but you didn’t break me.
    You didn’t erase me.
    You didn’t take away the part of me that’s stubborn enough to get back up tomorrow.

    You are loud, Anxiety.
    You are heavy.
    You are relentless.

    But so am I.

    One bad day doesn’t define me.
    One hard moment doesn’t erase all the progress I’ve made.
    One lost battle doesn’t mean I’ve lost the war.

    I’m still breathing.
    I’m still standing.
    I’m still fighting.

    You may have won today.
    But I’m not done.

    Not even close.

    — 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 Can Roar, But I Will Rise

    Dear Anxiety,

    You are loud.
    You roar with fear, with panic, with worst-case-scenarios.
    You try to drown out everything good, everything peaceful, everything true.

    You want me to believe that your voice is the only one that matters.
    That your fear defines my future.
    That your noise cancels out my dreams.

    But you’re wrong.

    You can roar.
    You can scream.
    You can flood my mind with doubt and my body with fear.

    But I will rise.

    I will rise on the days when breathing feels like a victory.
    I will rise on the nights when sleep feels impossible.
    I will rise through the racing heart, the shaky hands, the heavy thoughts.

    I will rise even when it’s messy.
    Even when it’s ugly.
    Even when it’s nothing more than a whisper of hope inside a storm.

    Because rising isn’t about perfection.
    It’s about refusing to stay down.

    You can roar as loud as you want.
    But you will never silence my will to live, to love, to heal, to hope.

    I will rise.
    Again.
    And again.
    And again.

    You can count on that.

    — 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. 🖤