I’m unwell. Sleep should be my refuge, but it eludes me. My partner enters the room, gently rubbing my back while our sick kids wreak havoc on a cherished family heirloom. “You should get some rest,” he suggests. “You’ll feel better if you do.”
Frustrated, I shove his arm away and toss the covers aside. “I can’t sleep. I keep fixating on those socks I ordered.”
He looks confused. “The socks?”
“Yes, the knee-highs I found on Amazon for the boys. I can’t shake this overwhelming dread, and every time a lyric from Hamilton pops into my head, another wave of panic hits me. It’s relentless.”
“But you love Hamilton!”
“It doesn’t have to make sense. I feel like I need a legally prescribed Xanax.”
This is generalized anxiety disorder (GAD), often simply referred to as “an anxiety disorder.” It manifests as a constant state of worry about just about anything. Sometimes it’s about social situations, other times it’s about alarming world events like traffic fatalities or environmental crises. Occasionally, the concern is completely mundane.
You might find yourself fretting uncontrollably about your car starting in the morning. Sure, it happened two years ago, but that doesn’t help. Approaching the vehicle feels like a trial; you can’t breathe normally until the engine roars to life and the dashboard lights flicker on. This is crucial because you need to get the kids to school. It’s a ritual that repeats every single morning.
At other times, the thought of being the first one to arrive at a playdate sends you spiraling. Why? You know the other moms will eventually show up. But the fear of being late feels rude, so you leave the house early—yet not early enough to grab coffee. You dread that lonely fifteen minutes spent waiting, worrying about what your kids will do without playmates and what you’ll do without adults to engage with. You’d prefer not to scroll on your phone, but you certainly don’t want to push your kids on the swings either (let’s be honest: no one really enjoys that).
You can keep an eye on them, but the anxiety creeps in—what if something dangerous happens and you’re all alone? Maybe you should’ve brought your dog along; he’s big and looks intimidating. Intellectually, you know you’ll arrive at the park, let the kids out, and wait on your phone until your friend shows up. But those minutes of anticipation are agonizing, and you can’t quite pin down why.
Your worries extend to your children’s lives. Do they have too many toys, stifling their creativity? But if you take some away, will they resent you forever? And isn’t it disrespectful to remove their belongings? You fret about their TV time, knowing it may hinder their imagination, yet you also recognize that they need some downtime. You stress over the dogs stealing food and worry they might grow up preferring cats. You’re anxious they don’t play outside enough, or that someone will notice mismatched socks or a stained shirt. For someone with GAD, your kids become adorable sources of anxiety.
Then there’s the inexplicable dread of laundry baskets. They sit in my kitchen, silently judging me with their overflowing contents. It takes an absurd number of baskets and a legally prescribed Klonopin just to sort them. Even then, I leave the clean clothes piled in front of the kids’ drawers because folding seems like an insurmountable task. I worry about what others think—especially the babysitter. I joke about being too busy creating art with the kids to tidy up, but inside, I’m anxious they’ll judge me for the chaos.
And oh, the anxiety surrounding babysitters! If you don’t have GAD, you can’t comprehend the sheer panic that arises. You fret that they’ll perceive your home as a disaster zone worthy of a call to child services. Cleaning is essential—especially the bathrooms and kids’ rooms, which are often strewn with Legos. You find yourself begging them to make the kids clean up after themselves, haunted by the memory of that one time when they didn’t, and you came home in tears. Once you finally leave, you pray they keep the kids safe and away from harm.
Living with GAD means being consumed by fears that range from logical (car accidents) to completely irrational. Telling us to stop worrying is futile; if it were that simple, we’d have done it already. No amount of reasoning can convince us that laundry baskets aren’t terrifying or that babysitters will be just fine. We can’t reason our way out of it; we simply have to endure it, one anxious thought at a time.
For many of us, medication can help, as can therapy and even a comforting hug. While you may not fully grasp our fears, your willingness to be present makes a difference. You don’t have to understand; you just need to be there—and maybe fold some laundry too.
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Summary
Living with generalized anxiety disorder (GAD) involves grappling with irrational fears and worries that can disrupt daily life. From mundane concerns about laundry to the dread of social situations, those with GAD experience a constant state of anxiety. Support from loved ones and therapeutic interventions can help, but understanding the condition is crucial for those who don’t experience it firsthand.
Keyphrase: Life with an Anxiety Disorder
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