Habits of the Forever-Anxious
How anxiety can become an indelible part of your routine.

10.17 am: I stroll into work casually, wait for the elevator. I take my headphones off and stuff them into my bag, smiling awkwardly at a colleague who’s waiting for the elevator too. I look at the number display….3….2….I take a deep breath. I decide I will not tell anyone that I had to rush to the bathroom to vomit just before I left home, because I know they will worry and I know they will not understand how the idea of coming to work could make me react that way.
11.24 am: Inbox (1): “Re: Pending Tasks: Can we have a quick catch-up meeting?”
My toes feel warm, and the feeling slowly moves up till my legs are completely numb. My hands are already shaking but I ball them up into fists and breathe slowly. The voices in my head have started their debate — “what if you get fired? what if they finally realised you are a untalented worthless employee? what if you are just overreacting and all the boss needs is an update on all your work? what if you start crying because you can’t hold it together?” — and I click ‘reply.’
“Sure. Does 4 pm work?”
1.42 pm: I am standing outside the office building, giving my smoker colleague company. I quit smoking months ago but the temptation of a break of any kind is too good to ignore, so I stand as far away from her as I can without being rude but not inhaling any cancer clouds.
5 more hours, I quietly placate myself. 5 more hours you have to pretend to have a stable head on your shoulders. I am too tired, but it doesn’t matter.
3.50 pm: I have spent hours leading up to 4 pm rationalising my fear. I am dreading a conversation that has not yet happened because I am convinced there is no way in hell my work is up to par. It is substandard and I am ashamed. I am getting fired in 10 minutes. What will I tell my parents? My body is feeling weird. I want this day to end. I want to go home. I miss my cats. I need to lie down. My throat is welling up.
Damn, she’s waiting in the meeting room. I hope I don’t cry. I’m walking in, she smiles.
“Let’s get started!”
5.05 pm: I am having chai after my meeting. I did not get fired. She said she “loved” it and it was “great work”. I am not convinced. But I am too tired to worry about it now. My head feels heavy. I am worried still, but my mind cannot tell me what about.
7.20 pm: I remember to buy vegetables, milk, and bread on the way home. I promise myself I will work out, but I open Netflix instead. As the opening bars boom, I can feel tears streaming down my face, but I am too tired to wipe them.
My brain starts to go over all the work I didn’t complete today, and I tell it to shut up. Tomorrow, I say. Tomorrow it will be better.
I eat my dinner listlessly, I talk to him and he tries his best to make me laugh. I curl up under my blanket. My eyes close when the weight of the sadness that’s settled in my chest is too much to bear. Tomorrow will be better.
10.12 am: I stroll into work casually, wait for the elevator.
