Living With Anxiety — A Little Bit More Than Before

Living with anxiety can feel like wading through a quiet sea. It’s heavy, unclear, and impossibly deep. Some days, the weight is so dense it’s impossible to describe. Yet it exists in every shallow breath and every racing heartbeat. The world goes on outside. Inside, every step feels uphill. Every moment stretches. Every thought feels louder than it should. Living with anxiety means even the simplest tasks can feel impossible. Even well-meaning advice sometimes lands like noise.

On a day like today — or maybe like yesterday — life isn’t an option but a downhill slide. The past few weeks felt like a slow unravelling. Every glance, every word, even every small interaction can feel amplified. It can trigger reminders of the weight that doesn’t leave.

Like Suriel Heiss sings,

“I know sometimes I’m slow to tell you.
If you don’t know by the way I hold you,
Oh I hope I show it just in case you need to know.
Little bit, a little bit more than before,
Even on the days I’m not so sure.”

Shouting at the broken one — the one already trembling — only slams the door shut on her fragile attempt to seek help. I wish people knew it isn’t the broom that drives away the possessed. Nor the ones who read that should know more. Nor the ones healing themselves who should know better what to say.

Even when living with anxiety, the breath comes slower. The heart races faster. The body feels out of reach. It simply gets heavier. The breath turns into a struggle. The air is too thin. She’s gasping for something she cannot catch.

Don’t shake me up, darling. I have no control over this trembling body. No control over the losses that won’t stop echoing — just like a shopaholic has no control over spending. Still, even in the heaviest moments, there is a glimmer: the ability to hold on a little bit more than yesterday. A little bit more is still possible.