I know what you’re thinking: ‘really, again? More about the anxiety?’ And I hate that the answer is yes, probably more than you do. I wish it was something I could ignore. But it’s a part of me, whether I want it to be or not. And rather than sit in silence in my bedroom, I’d like to open a conversation, start a dialogue, remove some of the stigma surrounding anxiety.

I know that it affects my family and friends. I hate that it does. It hurts me to see you suffering because of it. And trust me when I tell you that I really do see it, and I wish that there was something I could do about it. There are a lot of things that I do, thanks to the awesome feeling we call anxiety. Maybe you know the way these things affect me, and subsequently you. Maybe you don’t. I’m here to clear up a few things.

I DON’T like asking you ever ten seconds if you’re mad at me. Please believe that if I could stop, I would. But there’s a constant, endless, stream of self-doubt and awful words running in my head frequently.