When There Is No Cure for Anxiety

Heart racing. Sweaty palms. Heavy stomach. Tight throat. Short breaths. The same worn-out feelings on a new face: postpartum anxiety.

My entire life I’ve waged war against anxiety. I’ve thrown punches, taken blows to my body, and fought to have my body and mind back again. I’ve longed for the day when I wouldn’t be afraid of vomiting or social gatherings. I’ve fought to not be overcome with nausea, shaking, or panic attacks. To not be captivated with catastrophic thinking. And after all these years—from daughter to mother, from student to employee, from girlfriend to wife—I’m here facing anxiety again in a new way.

During a group therapy session, one participant asked our leaders, “Does it ever end? Do these irrational voices and fears ever go away?”

They gave us thin smiles and glanced at each other. Then one of them replied with a laugh, “When you find out, let me know.”

Maybe you’ve heard those stories of victory and overcoming—those who finished the battle, won the reward, and experienced pure freedom from their previous mental oppressor. Those are the stories that are shared most often and are so well-known. 

I’m learning that those aren’t the only stories. But that doesn’t mean the rest of us are hopeless—if we choose, we can find quite the opposite.

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