Living with Anxiety, Not Against It

I didn’t realize how much anxiety had shaped my life until I became a parent.

For as long as I can remember, anxiety has been there.

As a child, I was constantly in fight-or-flight mode. New friends. New homes. New schools. New states. Change became something I braced for instead of embraced. I struggled with sleep and fears that the adults around me didn’t always understand. Looking back now, I realize how easily mental health can be misunderstood, especially in children.

At the time, I didn’t have the language for it.

I just thought that was who I was.

As I got older, I became very good at functioning despite my anxiety. From the outside, everything looked fine. I built a career. I got married. I became a mother.

But anxiety has a way of collecting interest when it’s left unattended.

For years, I masked it with unhealthy coping mechanisms and convinced myself I could simply push through. I learned the hard way that ignoring mental health doesn’t make it disappear. It just finds new ways to get your attention.

My first full-blown adult panic attack happened behind the wheel on the highway.

If you’ve ever had one, you know how terrifying that feels.

I went to the doctor and was prescribed medication, hoping it would solve the problem. But the panic didn’t magically disappear. Instead, I spent years dreading my commute and suffering in silence, wondering why something so ordinary felt so difficult.

Then COVID happened.

Like many people, I settled into a new routine and a different pace of life. But when the world started returning to normal, the anxiety came rushing back with a vengeance.

Your brain remembers fear.

Mine did.

The moment that changed everything, though, wasn’t the panic attack. It wasn’t a doctor’s appointment. It wasn’t a medication adjustment.

It was becoming a parent.

People don’t talk enough about how much becoming a parent can affect your mental health. Postpartum anxiety is very real, and it’s especially difficult when anxiety already has a permanent residence in your life.

But what hit me hardest wasn’t what anxiety was doing to me.

It was what it might teach my children.

Children are always watching.

They watch how we handle disappointment. They watch how we respond to uncertainty. They watch how we navigate stress, fear, and change.

I didn’t want my children to inherit my fear of the unknown.

I didn’t want them to believe that courage meant never feeling afraid.

And I certainly didn’t want them to learn that struggling in silence was somehow a badge of honor.

For the first time, I stopped asking myself how to get rid of anxiety and started asking a different question:

How do I live well anyway?

That question changed my life.

It led me to therapy.

It led me to doctors who listened.

It led me to a GeneSight test that helped identify medications that worked better for me.

It led me to healthier habits and healthier coping mechanisms.

It led me to sobriety.

This year, I celebrated three years alcohol-free. Not because alcohol caused my anxiety, but because I finally realized I didn’t want to keep reaching for temporary solutions to a permanent reality.

Most importantly, it led me to acceptance.

Not surrender.

Acceptance.

There’s a difference.

For years, I treated anxiety like an enemy I needed to defeat before I could fully enjoy my life. I kept waiting for the day I would wake up and finally feel fearless.

That day never came.

What did come was something better.

Perspective.

I still have anxiety.

I still have days when my brain wants to jump ten steps ahead and imagine every possible outcome. I still overthink things. I still have moments where fear tries to grab the steering wheel.

The difference is that now I recognize those moments for what they are.

They’re feelings.

Not facts.

And certainly not instructions.

I’ve learned that courage isn’t the absence of fear.

It’s moving forward while fear sits quietly in the passenger seat.

Today, I take medication. I go to therapy. I prioritize rest. I ask for help when I need it.

Most days, I still don’t love having anxiety.

But I’m no longer ashamed of it.

It’s part of my story.

And if my children learn anything from watching me, I hope it’s this:

You don’t have to be fearless to live a beautiful life.

You don’t have to have everything figured out before taking the next step.

And you don’t have to fight every battle alone.

Today, I don’t ignore my anxiety.

I don’t fight it every day either.

I live alongside it.

And that has brought me more peace than trying to outrun it ever did.