Love letter to my anxiety.

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I know you.

You have always been with me, I feel you in my chest and in my stomach every day, sending butterflies through my body and making my head spin just to remind me of your presence.

When I was five, you taught me to be scared in situations that were scary. I would feel you pumping my heart and telling me to run when I was in danger.

I know you.

When I was seven, you taught me to make myself invisible as I moved through countless schools and social circles, to try and protect me from the bullies. It worked (most of the time).

When I was twelve you taught me the value of hard work, by making me afraid of failure you instilled in me a drive to succeed and learn, to do better and be better. It worked.

I know you.

When I was fourteen you taught me to shield my heart so it wouldn’t be broken, you saw me cry and promised me that it wouldn’t be so easy for them the next time. And it wasn’t.

When I was sixteen you taught me to be wary of crowds, and I learnt to love peace and solitude.

I know you.

When I was twenty you taught me the value of slowing down, forcing me to take time for myself (you still remind me of this from time to time) and reevaluate what is most important.

You have been the overprotective parent, teaching me values and beliefs that I carry with me to this day, shielding me from what you saw as danger. Because of you I am strong, hardworking, patient and kind, and while I still need the reminder to slow down every once in a while, you can’t protect me forever. I’m no longer the little girl that needs to run. There will always be danger, and vulnerability is growth.

I love you, I accept you, and I know you.

But you have served your purpose, and it is time for me to let you go.

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