Anxiety, to me, is the tightness I feel in between the base of my neck and my shoulder blades. It’s when my mind runs a thousand miles an hour and I have to sit down and write to process my thoughts, it’s constantly tapping and moving, it’s staying up late at night because something has me nervous, or spooked, or worried. It is having trouble stepping outside of myself and seeing a situation for what it is. It is constant repetition and layers on layers of creating ridiculous situations that wont happen. Anxiety means not making sense, it’s having friends who struggle to keep up with rapid fire thoughts and statements. It’s reading this paragraph as fast as you can and stumbling over words but your mind wont let you stop.
Anxiety is figuring out how to deal with it.
It means sitting down in the middle of the…
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