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.
