Maybe the Problem Wasn't Me: Rethinking Anxiety When the World Really Is Too Much

There’s a really common narrative people love to circle back to when it comes to anxiety. Maybe you’ve heard it.

You get all worked up about something ahead of time, because you're sure it's going to be an absolutely shit show of an experience. A test, a job interview, or maybe just a party. Your brain immediately kicks into worst-case-scenario mode. You lose sleep, overprepare, and stress-eat something regrettable (or, in my case, you stop eating at all). And then the day comes, and… it’s fine. Or at least not nearly as bad as you feared.

And that’s when you get the backhanded pep talk. "See? It was just your anxiety talking. It’s never as bad as we think it’s going to be."

But here’s the thing. That’s never really been my experience.

For me, things usually are as bad as I expect, if not worse. And what’s more, I don’t get used to them. They don’t become less overwhelming over time. I just get better at hiding how they make me feel until I burn out, shut down, or start fantasizing about disappearing into the woods where no one can find me. If it gets bad enough, suicide might even start looking like a great way off the merry-go-round, so yeah. It really is that bad.

And if that resonates with you, I want to talk to you for a minute. Because something's seriously wrong with that whole setup.

When Your Brain Isn't Lying

I used to assume I must just be overreacting. That I needed to “build resilience” or “get out of my comfort zone” more often, just like my mother used to say when she'd get disgusted with me. And I tried. For years. 

I pushed through school even though the noise, the pressure, and the constant need to perform left me raw and exhausted. I took (and kept) jobs that drained me daily because I had no other choice. I tried to do the socially expected things — like have a wedding to which other people were invited, make small talk, keep up appearances — and I hated every minute of it. I hated it all so much, I frequently found myself wishing I were dead, just so I wouldn't have to do it anymore.

And through it all, I kept waiting for that moment people talk about. The part where you realize it wasn’t so bad after all. 

That moment never came.

Because for people like me — people who are sensitive, anxious, maybe neurodivergent in ways they don’t even fully understand — our brains aren’t always wrong. We’re not catastrophizing or "being dramatic," as my mother always used to like to call it. We’re predicting.

The overstimulation, the exhaustion, the inevitable emotional hangover when it all eventually slips sideways? We saw it coming because we already know how much it takes out of us. This isn’t “just anxiety.” It’s lived experience telling us what we can expect because we've already been there before.

You're Not Broken, You're Tired

If this is sounding a little too familiar right now, I want to say something to you directly. You are not weak. You are not broken. You are tired from the experience of existing and coping in a world that wasn't designed with you in mind.

And your body has been sounding the alarm for years, trying to get your attention. Trying to say, “This isn’t sustainable. Please, can't we just stop?”

Most mental health advice for anxiety is built around the idea that the threat is perceived, not real. But what happens when the threat is real? What happens when your day-to-day environment is genuinely draining, loud, chaotic, or built for people with different needs than yours?

You can’t fix that by breathing through it or telling yourself it’s all in your head. You fix it by changing the system or by creating a life that supports your nervous system instead of constantly working against it. 

That's precisely the reasoning behind so many of the so-called "weird" decisions I've made with my life over the years. I'm just trying to do what everyone else is trying to do, too –– create a life that doesn't make me feel like I'm (at best) in constant need of a vacation or (at worst) better off dead.

A Few Actionable Truths I Wish I'd Learned Sooner

So, what do you do when the standard anxiety advice doesn’t work for you? Here are some things that have helped me reframe my life and my energy in healthier ways.

1. Stop gaslighting yourself

If you consistently feel dread or exhaustion around something specific, that’s probably not just you being irrational. That might well be your body reacting to receipts. Your nervous system is smarter than you think it is. It knows when something doesn’t feel safe, supportive, or right.

So, instead of asking, “Why can’t I just handle this like everyone else?” Try asking, “What is this experience trying to tell me?”

2. Learn to distinguish anxiety from accurate sensitivity

For me, anxiety often feels sharp and cold. It spirals, and it builds elaborate worst-case-scenario stories around uncertainty. But my sensitive perceptions? They feel a lot more rational, even if they’re also uncomfortable. They’re more like knowing, the same way you know you'll burn yourself if you touch a red-hot stove burner with your bare hands.

So, if you find yourself thinking, “I just know this is going to be too much for me,” and then it is, you’re probably not just anxious. You’re also likely intuitive. Maybe neurodivergent or hypersensitive. And that deserves to be honored and acknowledged.

3. Design your life around your nervous system

This was actually where the game started to change for me in lasting ways. I stopped trying to “tough it out” and started asking myself what a good life would actually look and feel like to me.

In my case, it includes:

• Working from home in a quiet space I can control
• Taking breaks before I feel fried
• Saying no to overstimulating social events without guilt
• Using rituals and spiritual practices to ground myself daily

What would your list include?

4. Don't wait until you're fried enough to "deserve" rest

If you’re used to pushing through everything, it’s easy to think rest is only for emergencies. Because if you're anything like me, you constantly feel like you have to make up for how far behind you think you are compared to everyone else. 

But rest is preventative maintenance, not just recovery. It's essential, and it's something everyone needs, whether they admit it or not. Weave it into your routine. Block out days with nothing on them if you can, occasional afternoons or evenings if you can't. Choose the quiet option whenever you can. You don’t need to have a meltdown to justify protecting your energy.

5. Create language around your needs

This is especially important if you share space or life with others. Instead of trying to explain your experience in the moment (when you’re already overloaded and don't know which end is up), develop go-to phrases that honor your truth. For example:

• “That sounds fun, but it’s too much for me today.”

• “My capacity is low right now.”

• “I’m overstimulated. I need some time to reset.”

People who care about you will respect that. And people who don’t? Let them think whatever they want. And if they're seriously offended enough by the fact that you set a boundary, that they walk out of your life over it? Let them. You don’t need to defend your bandwidth to anyone.

Sensitivity Isn't "All in Your Head"

And once you step away from the madness long enough to get your head straight again, you realize it can actually be something sacred if you let it be. It took me a long time to realize that I wasn’t “bad at life.” I was just experiencing life more deeply than most people. And in a culture that values productivity over peace, that gets labeled as a flaw.

But what if it isn’t, or at the very least, doesn't have to be?

What if sensitivity is simply a different kind of knowing? What if your refusal to numb out and check out is actually a strength? What if your anxiety has actually been trying to protect the most genuine, truthful part of you?

That’s how I’m learning to see it now. And no, the world hasn’t gotten any less loud or chaotic. No, I'm not any less overstimulated by the idea of working an outside job or even a little less terrified by the idea of having to report for jury duty in person.

But I’ve gotten better at listening to myself, so I can stop blaming my nervous system for reacting to what’s actually real.

So, if you’re also bone-tired of pretending things are “fine” when they’re absolutely not, this is your permission to stop. Because maybe the problem was never you. Maybe you were just trying to bloom in a soil that didn’t understand your roots.