A Conversation with My Anxiety

I once read an article about the therapeutic benefits of not only naming your anxiety but talking to it, too. It’s the loudest voice in my head, after all.

It got me thinking: how might that conversation go if I personified my anxiety? So, I wrote a dialogue that showcases, with deep reflection and brutal honesty, how I think it could play out if it took place where my anxiety’s often loudest — at home, alone. Please understand that this is not intended to represent anyone else’s experiences other than my own.

Anxiety: Does this mean you finally want to talk?

Evan: What do you mean?

Anxiety: You aren’t going to pour yourself a drink?

Evan: Do you want me to pour a drink?

Anxiety: Only if you want me to go away for the night.

Evan: I said I’d wait until the weekend.

Anxiety: Wouldn’t matter either way. I’ll be right there as soon as you wake up.

Evan: That doesn’t mean I want to talk to you.

Anxiety: Then what else are you going to do? Rot in place? That’s all you ever do.

Evan: No it isn’t. I’ll call my dad — I haven’t talked to him in a few days.

Anxiety: Please do. I hope he answers.

Evan: Why do you care?

Anxiety: All you ever talk to him about is me. Hell, it’s all you ever talk about with anyone anymore. I like the attention.

Evan: That isn’t true.

Anxiety: It’s absolutely true. You haven’t noticed how often you talk about something you’re worried about? Or your uncanny ability to sneak in a self-deprecating comment into every other sentence? That’s all me.

Evan: You’re wrong.

Anxiety: What, you don’t think I hear it all? I’ve had a front-row seat to every conversation you’ve ever had.

Evan: People care about me. They want to know how I’m doing.

Anxiety: Do they?

Evan: I don’t like to hide how I’m feeling anymore.

Anxiety: And yet every conversation sounds the same, doesn’t it?

Evan: N… no. I talk about other things, too.

Anxiety: Don’t play dumb.

Evan: I’m not playing dumb. Earlier today I told a friend that I was going to a show tonight. I told her I couldn’t wait to go.

Anxiety: Read that text message back to me. The whole thing.

Evan: “I just can’t wait for the show tonight.”

Anxiety: I said read the whole thing.

Evan: “…I have a lot of pent-up anxiety and anger to get out. It’ll be good for me.”

Anxiety: See what I mean?

Evan: That’s only one example.

Anxiety: Do we really need to pour through all your texts? I can replay all the calls while I’m at it. Why don’t we rewind it back to every in-person interaction that’s ever haunted you? Don’t think I can’t — I already have a dozen times today.

Evan: I’m doing my best to not harp on it so much.

Anxiety: They’d give anything to never have to hear about me ever again. Just tell them about the time you got bit on that first date. I’m sure they’d love to hear that story again for the millionth time. But guess what? I was there that night. And I’ve been there every time you’ve ever told that story. I even watched you write an article about it, too. And each time you can’t help but give me a shoutout. You can’t resist saying my name.

Evan: I thought it was good to be vulnerable. To share how I’m really feeling. To not hide anymore.

Anxiety: And look how much good it’s done you. You thought you could just speak my name out of existence? That doesn’t make any fucking sense.

Evan: …..

Anxiety: You thought Zoloft would get rid of me, too. You haven’t taken it in six months.

Evan: It wasn’t working anymore.

Anxiety: And now look at you. Look at us.

Evan: …..

Anxiety: Your face is starting to get red again. What’s that, the fifth time today?

Evan: Stop talking.

Anxiety: Isn’t it funny how much power I have over not only your thoughts but your body, too?

Evan: …..

Anxiety: You know how people call you out every time your face gets red? You hate that, don’t you?

Evan: I said stop talking.

Anxiety: And then suddenly you struggle to find the words — any words at all.

Evan: Please stop talking.

Anxiety: And then everybody stares at you, thinking you’re weak — mentally deficient.

Evan: Please.

Anxiety: And then you drown out all the noise with your own self-doubt, with how incompetent you are, with how inferior you are.

Evan: …..

Anxiety: And then you wallow in it for a couple of hours. Maybe even a few days. Then you feel the urge to share it with someone else, hoping they’ll counteract everything you feel with a measly compliment or words of affirmation.

Evan: I am begging you, please stop.

Anxiety: You get a rush from it all. Hell, you may even feel like everything is okay, and then not an hour later you’re back on your bullshit again.

Evan: …..

Anxiety: It’s like clockwork.

Evan: Why won’t you leave me alone?

Anxiety: Leave you alone? Why would I do that?

Evan: Why can’t you just leave forever?

Anxiety: And go where? I like it here.

Evan: I never asked you to stay.

Anxiety: You never showed me the door.

Evan: When did I ever invite you in the first place? I never asked for this.

Anxiety: It doesn’t matter. You can’t get rid of me anyway.

Evan: Yes, I can.

Anxiety: You don’t get it, do you? We are one and the same.

Evan: No we’re not. You do not define me.

Anxiety: Think of all the people you’ve ever met. They’re probably thinking what a mess you are. How chronically negative you are. How you relentlessly compare yourself to others and always come up short. I bet they’re even talking about it over drinks with their friends, their family, and their coworkers — people that don’t even know you. Speaking of, you must want a drink now, don’t you? To shut me up a little?

Evan: No.

Anxiety: It wouldn’t do you any good anyway.

Evan: No, it wouldn’t.

Anxiety: So what are you going to do? Whose approval will you seek out next? Who’s gonna give you that 15 minutes of peace you so desperately crave, all with the flick of a forced, half-assed compliment?

Evan: It’s not anyone I know — at least not anyone I know yet. She’s a therapist, and my first appointment is with her tomorrow.

Anxiety: You think speaking to a therapist this time is going to make a difference?

Evan: I’ve done it before. They’re good at what they do. I have to try again.

Anxiety: You’re just wasting your time — our time. Don’t forget: I’m your greatest ally. Remember that push to drop out of grad school to pursue a new career because you couldn’t cut it? To pack up your life and move to Austin when you didn’t know anybody? To go on any of those fruitless dates? To do virtually anything? I am the most powerful motivating force you will ever have. You need me now more than ever and you know it.

Evan: I can’t let you control me anymore. I can’t keep putting myself down. I can’t keep seeking reassurance from other people for temporary relief. And one of the best ways I know how is through therapy. And if we have to coexist, at the very least she can teach me how to silence you, just as you’ve silenced me all the times I wanted to speak up but never could.

Anxiety: You’ll know where to find me when you’re done.

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This is part one of a planned series. Whether you struggle with anxiety or other adverse conditions, I hope this article resonated with you or gave you insight into what it’s like to live with anxiety. As always, I sing therapy’s praises and highly encourage you to seek help if you need it.