My friend, who suffers from anxiety, has a beautiful mind.
I believe in the beauty of my friend’s mind.
She is my long time friend; we share a spiritual friendship and love for the human mind.
Since the beginning of our friendship, I knew she suffered from severe anxiety.
Please read this article to learn more about the world of the anxious person. Maybe one day you will be able to understand and help an anxious person live a better life.
My friend’s world is colored by worries, fears, nervousness, and uncertainties. Despite all these negativities, she is full of potential for greatness, creativity, and imagination, including above average intelligence.
When she feels everything is under her control, she is on top of the world. Otherwise, she is anxious and fearful.
“I got anxiety from my mother, and now I live her life in reality,” she explained to me.
“What is killing me is constant anticipation of the worst possible scenario, worse than the event itself. I know it is a part of being an anxious person.”
As an educated person, she understands that taking responsibility for how she feels is part of her recovery process.
Her fears are not based in reality. She knows this, but with a mind full of obsessive thoughts and compulsive behavior, she is not in a good position to do much at the moment.
My friend was confident when she said “When you have anxiety, naturally your second problem is depression. I am depressed because I feel out of control. I always want to be in control, therefore I depend on others. I became a person with a dependent personality, and I hate that.”
I tried to stop her, but I couldn’t.
“My misery comes from my obsession with my health. I don’t want to become hypochondriac, but checking my symptoms makes me really crazy. I am ready to face my symptoms. The danger lies in not doing that. I know it is part of my recovery process to a happy life.”
I hesitated to say to her that I had never had a chance to meet such a highly analytical, knowledgeable, and sensitive person before. That I know it is part of her anxious personality, but that she is still beautiful. But I didn’t.
Many times I saw her crying with no real reason.
“I will be okay,” she told me. “Don’t worry. It’s me, my anxiety.”
“Please, don’t feel guilty,” I said, not knowing how to react.
“Guilt is my way to explain my unhappiness. It’s my way, desperate way, to prove my way of thinking.”
Oh my God, she had an explanation for each step of her life. Is it an easier life,