Anxiety—It’s a Trauma Response



Anxiety Isn’t a Choice—It’s a Trauma Response (And Sometimes It Feels Like a Full-Time Job)

Ah, anxiety. That uninvited house guest who shows up at the worst possible moments, like during a job interview, at a romantic dinner, or when you're trying to fall asleep. You didn’t choose it. You didn’t send it an RSVP. And yet, here it is, unpacking its bags and reminding you of every awkward thing you’ve ever said since 1997. Fun, right?

Let’s clear something up from the start: Anxiety isn’t like picking out what toppings to put on your pizza. Nobody stands in the kitchen, going, “Hmm, should I have extra cheese or a full-blown panic attack about something that happened five years ago? Decisions, decisions!” No, anxiety isn’t a choice—it’s a trauma response, a survival mechanism that’s gone rogue, like a malfunctioning fire alarm that goes off when you’re just toasting bread.


Trauma: The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Trauma is like that one friend who still talks about their high school glory days. It just won’t let go of the past. Your brain, in all its well-meaning glory, decides that something mildly stressful is the exact same as that time you got yelled at by your third-grade teacher for breathing too loud. So, your nervous system revs up, ready to fight a tiger that doesn’t exist—or maybe it’s just your boss asking for a quick update.

Cue the anxiety. Your brain’s like, Don’t worry, I’ve got this! We’ll just catastrophise for a while and then spiral into self-doubt. Cool? (No, Brain, not cool.)


Let’s Talk About the Symptoms

Anxiety isn’t subtle—it’s like the toddler screaming in the middle of the grocery store, except it’s inside your head.

And then there’s the sweating. Oh, the sweating. Congratulations, you’ve just turned into a human slip-and-slide, because your nervous system thinks you’re about to fight a dragon instead of, you know, attending a Zoom meeting.


Finding Humour in the Chaos

Here’s the thing: While anxiety might be rooted in trauma, sometimes you’ve just got to laugh about it. Like that time you sent a “Thanks for your patience” email and spent the next hour wondering if they thought you sounded passive-aggressive. (Spoiler alert: They didn’t. They probably didn’t even notice.)

Or how about when your anxiety convinces you that everyone at the party is judging you for not knowing the lyrics to Bohemian Rhapsody? (Newsflash: They’re too busy figuring out if they should refill their drink.)


Rewriting the Script

If anxiety is a trauma response, think of humour as your plot twist. It’s not about ignoring your feelings; it’s about taking the power back. After all, anxiety may be a constant companion, but it doesn’t have to run the show.

So next time your brain starts whispering, What if?, respond with, Yeah, what if I become a billionaire by selling anxiety-themed T-shirts? Or, What if this awkward moment becomes a hilarious anecdote someday? Spoiler: It probably will.


Remember 

Anxiety isn’t your fault, and it definitely isn’t your choice. But if you can’t kick it out, you might as well learn to coexist with it. And maybe—just maybe—laugh at its ridiculousness every once in a while. After all, life’s too short to let your trauma response steal the show.

Now, go take a deep breath. Unless your anxiety makes you wonder if you’re doing that wrong, too. (Spoiler: You’re not.)


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

My Mantra for 2025: Let Them

Image
Happy New Year, everyone! It’s that time again—new year, fresh goals, and perhaps the odd existential crisis. Just me? No? Well, this year, instead of committing to the usual resolutions like eating healthier, exercising more, or finally tackling that stack of unread books, I’ve chosen something refreshingly simple, oddly liberating, and slightly cheeky: Let Them. Now, let’s be clear—this isn’t about passively surrendering to others or rolling over for anyone. Far from it. Instead, it’s a practice of stepping back from the exhausting urge to control what others do, say, or think. What Does "Let Them" Actually Mean? Imagine this: you’re in a meeting, mid-sentence, and someone interrupts, steals your idea, and then butchers it. Instead of letting frustration consume you, you think, “Let them. Let them make a fool of themselves.” Or, your perpetually flaky friend cancels plans at the last minute—again. Instead of resenting them, you shrug and think, “Let them flake. More time fo...
Read more

Escaping the Mental Prison

Image
Escaping the Mental Prison: A Journey to Freedom Life can often feel like a mental prison, trapping us in cycles of negativity, fear, and self-doubt. But true freedom is possible when we confront our inner struggles and take deliberate steps toward healing and growth. This journey is continuous and personal, but it is always worth the effort. Facing Our Inner Demons Freedom begins when we face what’s holding us back. It requires us to stop blaming others for our problems and take responsibility for our growth. We must stop avoiding our issues and start dealing with them directly. Letting go of secrets, guilt, and shame, and processing unresolved grief, allows us to heal. We also need to confront traits like stubbornness and resentment. By releasing these emotions, we can free ourselves from their grip. Facing our fears, learning to stop judging, and forgiving ourselves and others are all essential steps in breaking free from this mental prison. The journey to mental freedom is ongoing....
Read more

The Little Rituals That Keep Me Grounded

Image
(Source: Unsplash, photographer: Sixteen Miles Out) Some days I feel like I’m barely holding it together. Like I’m stitched together with string and hope and a whole lot of pretending. And the world just keeps spinning. Loud. Fast. Relentless. While I’m quietly trying not to fall apart. But there are these little things I do. Small things. The kind of things no one else would even notice. And yet somehow, they help me breathe. They pull me back. They remind me I’m still here. Waking up early. Just breathing. Before the world gets loud, there’s a moment of quiet. I drink a glass of water. Not because I’m thirsty. Because I promised myself I would. It’s such a small thing, but keeping that promise matters. It tells me I can trust myself again. Then I make my coffee. Strong. Black. No sugar. No milk. That first sip feels like a deep breath. A soft “you’ve got this” before the day begins. I sit. I write. Sometimes it’s a mess. Just scribbles. Thoughts I didn’t even know I was car...
Read more