Looking back on my life, even into my childhood, Anxiety had been a constant companion of mine. I was a nervous, shy, quiet child. I was afraid to ask for anything or make complaints to my parents (despite never being punished for doing so). I got really good and closing doors silently. Lots of little indicators that social media psych majors would cheerfully point at and say “here’s the top 10 signs you might have…”

I also took an hour to fall asleep then had vivid, stressful dreams nearly every night. I had a very hard time engaging with the world for any more than a day and would often disappear into a book or a video game (I still struggle with that actually). The nervous, quiet child grew into a flighty, antisocial adult.

And the masks. Oh the masks. The only time I was ever truly myself was when I was alone or with my older sister. All other times, I was pretending to be someone else. I had a mask for every occasion. I would constantly think of mundane conversations that I might have someday just so I could practice them in my head. I was a character performing his lines. Which was great! You can hate a character all you want; that doesn’t mean that actor is a horrible person. The problem with masks is that they’re heavy, exhausting to carry around, even worse to keep on. This left me constantly tired, which lowered my resilience, which kept me afraid. And so, the masks.

Now here’s the kicker. I was terrified of people thinking I was terrible and yet “knew” deep down that they would be right. I hated myself. Truly. And yet, I couldn’t just ostracize myself because it was my job to remain to help those dear to me. If anyone had a problem, I was to Fix It. The solution? Move every couple of years. Stay just long enough for people to grow to love me but not long enough to get to know me then leave while I was ahead. Start again and ride the high of novelty until the cycle repeats itself.

And, of course, I denied all of it. It couldn’t be true because it didn’t fit my carefully crafted narrative. Yet I knew exactly what to do to avoid facing these problems head on.

God. So many contradictions.

It needs to be said that if you sympathise with any of this, I urge you to talk to a doctor or a clinical psychologist about your experiences. I'm absolutely not an authority on mental health diagnoses. Only a qualified medical professional can say for certain whether or not you have Anxiety. I definitely did though, so if any of my words made your heart jump or poked part of your brain, talk to someone. It's 100% worth it.