It’s always felt for me like a big heavy blanket hung over my head, muffling the buzz and holding back all my dreams and drive. I hate this feeling. Anxiety, for me, is more painful by a long shot, but I prefer the sharp pain to the muffling. It seems more productive. I get ego-boosting pats on the back for the things I produce when I’m in the early stages of anxiety, even if the toll on my spirit is so dire.
