How I’m Learning to Live with Anxiety, Not Against It

“Your anger? It’s telling you where you feel powerless. Your anxiety? It’s telling you that something in your life is off balance. Your fear? It’s telling you what you care about. Your apathy? It’s telling you where you’re overextended and burnt out. Your feelings aren’t random, they are messengers. And if you want to get anywhere, you need to be able to let them speak to you and tell you what you really need.” ~Brianna Wiest

For half of my life, anxiety has been my constant companion. I went from a confident, fiery, and fearless girl to a woman plagued by self-doubt and paralyzed by fear.

My struggle with anxiety began in college. A sudden shift in my living situation flipped a switch in my brain, leaving me unrecognizable to myself. I found myself living in a toxic environment with roommates who caused so much chaos that I no longer felt safe in my own home.

This constant state of unease triggered the anxiety that would follow me for years. Instead of acknowledging it, I tried to outrun it. I looked outward for solutions, turning to the law of attraction and other quick-fix spiritual practices, but they only made me feel worse about myself.

Chronic stress and anxiety wreaked havoc on my body. I experienced severe digestive pain, tingling in my hands and feet, dizziness, nausea, and a myriad of other symptoms. I sought help from doctors, naturopaths, and specialists, but no one could find anything wrong with me.

Deep down, I couldn’t accept that anxiety might be the cause. I convinced myself that there had to be something seriously wrong with my health. Because I didn’t acknowledge that anxiety was behind it all, the symptoms only intensified.

I would go months without symptoms, only to be hit by a new wave of terrifying sensations. The anxiety always returned, stronger than before. It felt like a never-ending cycle.

Then, COVID-19 hit, a perfect storm for my anxiety. Not only was I navigating a global pandemic with a young child, but we were also in the middle of building a new home—a process delayed by the pandemic. We were moving to a completely different city, living out of boxes in a rental house while waiting for our new home to be completed.

My anxiety surged as I dealt with virtual school for our six-year-old. And then came the most devastating news: My mother was diagnosed with bladder cancer.

My parents moved into the rental house with us because their house had flooded. Watching my mom deteriorate from cancer only intensified my anxiety. My mother’s diagnosis wasn’t the only encounter I had with cancer; it started to feel like it was everywhere. The constant presence of illness and death heightened my anxiety, making me hyper-aware of every ache and pain.

Insomnia became my nightly companion, lasting nearly a year. Some nights, I wouldn’t sleep at all.

Anxiety about not sleeping became as overwhelming as my general anxiety. As bedtime approached, my chest grew heavy with dread. I cried all night, feeling utterly alone. When the world sleeps and you’re wide awake, the loneliness is crushing. It was just me and my millions of thoughts.

Desperate to shut off my brain, I turned to a nightly glass of wine. I tried various supplements, but they only wreaked havoc on my body, causing my liver enzymes to rise and bringing a host of other health issues.

Anxiety didn’t just change me; it affected every part of my life, especially my marriage. My husband, who was always calm and patient, started to become stressed and short-tempered because of my constant worry and fear.

My anxiety created tension between us, and we were no longer the carefree couple we once were. Our conversations often revolved around my fears, and I could see how much it was weighing on him.

As a mother, my anxiety took away the joy of being with my son. Instead of enjoying time with him, I found myself snapping at him, my patience worn thin by the constant state of unease I was in.

I spent every day researching, desperate to find a magic cure. I tried cognitive behavioral therapy, tapping, and affirmations. But nothing worked. Though CBT has helped many, it wasn’t right for me.

Trying to replace my negative thoughts with positive ones felt like plastering over cracks in a crumbling wall. The positive thoughts didn’t feel genuine; they felt like a temporary mask.

Then I discovered Jon Kabat-Zinn. His books became my lifeline, introducing me to mindfulness and meditation. Slowly, these practices became a part of my daily life. I learned to befriend my emotions instead of running from them or burying them deep inside.

I invited my anxiety to tea and listened to her worries. I hugged my fear and told her she’s not weak. I asked my anger what she’s holding onto and allowed her to scream and cry. I wrote letters to each of my emotions, and they wrote back.

We cried together, and for the first time, my emotions felt seen and heard. I was no longer afraid of them; they became a part of me—a part of what makes me human.

For the past five years, meditation and mindfulness have been my anchors. No, they haven’t cured my anxiety, but they’ve changed my relationship with it. Anxiety no longer controls my life. Instead of spiraling into panic, I ask myself, “What am I feeling? Where in my body do I feel this emotion?”

These simple questions ground me, bringing me back to the present moment. By labeling the feeling, I strip away much of its power. I tell myself, “I’m feeling anxious, and that’s okay.” I repeat this until I feel calm.

Sometimes, I even picture my anxiety as a physical presence—a person who needs love, patience, and understanding. I ask this person, “What do you need at this moment?” More often than not, the answer is simple: love.

My anxiety, like all emotions, wants to be recognized, to be heard without judgment. Sometimes, it just needs a moment to be, to exist without being pushed away.

Another tool that has been incredibly helpful for me is the STOP method by Jon Kabat-Zinn. Whenever I feel anxiety creeping in, I pause and STOP: Stop what I’m doing, Take a deep breath, Observe what’s happening inside and around me, and then Proceed with awareness. This simple technique helps break the cycle of anxious thoughts, grounding me in the present moment.

I believe all our emotions seek acknowledgment and understanding. They want to be recognized without judgment. Sometimes they just need a moment to breathe, to exist in a safe space where they can shift from overwhelming to understood. They want to know you won’t abandon them but rather guide them gently toward clarity.

Looking back, I realize that anxiety has changed me in ways I never expected. It has made me more empathetic toward others who are struggling with their own battles. I’ve learned that everyone is carrying something heavy, even if they don’t show it on the outside.

My anxiety has also taught me the importance of self-compassion. I used to be my own harshest critic, but now I’m learning to be kinder to myself, to give myself the grace to be imperfect.

Even though I’ve learned tools to manage my anxiety, it’s still a part of my life. There are days when the anxiety feels overwhelming, and the old fears creep back in. On those days, I remind myself that healing isn’t a straight line—it’s okay to have setbacks.

When I feel the familiar wave of anxiety, I turn to the practices that I’ve learned. Mindfulness, the STOP method, and self-compassion. I let myself feel what I’m feeling without judgment, and I focus on small, actionable steps to bring myself back to the present moment.

What keeps me motivated is knowing that I’ve come this far. Every setback is a chance to practice the tools I’ve learned, and each time I do, I’m reminded of my strength and resilience. My journey with anxiety is ongoing, but with each day, I grow more capable of handling whatever comes my way.

Your emotions don’t define you—they are a part of you. A sign that you are alive and deeply human. Embracing them, rather than battling them, has brought me peace, and I hope it can do the same for you.

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