Anxiety is My Biggest Enemy

some thoughts on my struggle with anxiety

I’ve always wanted to be a writer. When I was a kid, I used to keep those marble journals to write little stories and ideas in. I would draw fictional maps and write outlines for novels. There was one story called “Lost in Time” about a soldier who was escaping a particularly dangerous situation. As he was running, he came to a cliff; his only hope of survival was to jump.

And so he did.

As he fell, he heard bullets whizzing past. Suddenly, though, the bullets stopped, and he felt his feet land lightly on the ground. Eventually he realizes that he has fallen through some sort of wormhole and his back in time. The book was going to be about his journey back to the present day, but along the way he would grow as a person and help change the circumstances of his future self and the world.

Coming August 2006.

But like so many of my projects, it was eventually shot down by this aggravating voice inside my head.

It won’t be good enough. Someone else could do it better. Who do you think you are to write something like this?

I end up overthinking it so much that I toss out the whole thing.

I’ve got a folder of half-finished books on my OneDrive—all of them religious.

And all of them tell the same story: the story of a man who can’t get past his own self.

So many school assignments self-sabotaged through anxiety ridden procrastination. So many classes skipped. So much scholarship money lost. So many roller coasters avoided. So many rocks left unclimbed. Ok, now things are getting emotional.

And now I’ve got this book that is sitting around 35,000 words, and I can’t trick myself into writing another word or even opening the document.

It makes me sick—literally. I deal with acid reflux that is thanks to a hernia, but I can’t help but see a correlation between my anxiety and my throat being on fire…like it is now.

It’s why I don’t post on social media as much.

It’s why I haven’t recorded my podcasts like I should.

It’s why I don’t publicize and self-promote like I should.

I put out all this content, but I rarely make an effort to really get it out there. And why?

I don’t know. I guess I’m afraid of what will happen if my dreams actually do come true. My dream of writing for a living, of speaking at churches and conferences around the world—not to build myself up but to share the joy I have found in my research. I really want to share this good news. I really want to tell the world about it.

But it’s so hard.

It’s like… I don’t want to impose? Is that the right word?

For example, I know someone who self-promotes all the time. He even likes his own posts, which I always thought was like giving yourself a high-five. But in a way, I wish I had that kind of freedom. That freedom to chase my dreams. To take a chance on a poem. To post that short story. To share my heart.

But is that being too cocky? Am I too full of myself? Do I overestimate my own abilities? Is what I have to say worth it?

God, forgive me. I know the good news is worth it. It absolutely is.

But what I mean is… is my particular way of articulating the good news with my clumsy sentences, awkward punctuation, audible umms and uhhs really what the world needs? I see how politicians are treated for stumbling over their words, and I do that all the time.

And like, what is this post?

I do three of these a year or so. And I tell myself I do them so that if you feel like I do, you can know you aren’t alone. You with your unanswered texts and unopened emails. You with your good memory, not because it holds anything of value, but you developed it so you could keep up with all the things you’re trying to avoid and cram it full of stuff, like Rubik’s cube algorithms, to hide the darkness you refuse to work through.

But is this more like therapy? And I should pay you by the hour? Am I just trying to garner sympathy and get comments telling me how brilliant I actually am?

So many subjects I want to address…postponed in the named of prudence, when really I know I’m just worried how people will react…or not react. So many conversations I want to have. The acid reflux is rebelling against me now in full force for even considering it.

So anyway, I’m running a 5k in the morning, and I’ve got one million things on my mind.

God bless,

Daniel