Quotes About Anxiety

I was so nervous I didn't even sit down. I think because I wanted to be ready to run away if I had to.

Man is extremely uncomfortable with uncertainty. To deal with his discomfort, man tends to create a false sense of security by substituting certainty for uncertainty. It becomes the herd instinct.

It's not the tales of Stephen King that I've read, I need protection from the things in my head . . .

I was a distracted husband and parent. But I know that the root of all worry and anxiety is the same—it is an orphan spirit. God absolutely loves to be a Daddy. The context of Jesus' instruction not to worry began with the assertion that God cares for us as a Father. The reason that I grew up with so much worry and anxiety was that I didn't know

Fear is an insidious and deadly thing. It can warp judgment, freeze reflexes, breed mistakes. Worse, it's contagious.

Her dread of fire was almost as strong as her fear of deep water. She wasn't so much afraid of dying as she was of pain. If they had to die, she just hoped it wouldn't hurt too much. Or for too long.

Every word, every gesture must be analyzed, ad nauseam, in search of hidden rejection. Surges of noxious anxiety emanate from what I call brain farts and travel like sewer gas to my stomach.

The way everything seems to be working out right now, I wouldn't be surprised if I ended up dead before the night is over.

She shut the door in the man's face, leaning back against it, her heart hammering with panic.

I turn my back to Jess while we both get dressed. I'm sweating. Please don't let me have any weird feelings. Please don't let her look at me. Please don't let her be like Leah.

She knew she should be grateful to have a job at all. It took her two years of subbing before she finally landed this one. She couldn't risk losing it. She turned the handle slowly, pushed the door forward as if it was a giant boulder blocking the opening to a dark cave. She felt, for a moment, like Polyphemus returning to a cave of sheep. It wasn't the first time she felt like a monster.

Dunque, non so se ho venduto? Dico a vossignoria: la mia paura è questa. Non vendono tutti? Dico a vossignoria: il diavolo non esiste, non c'è, e a lui io ho venduto l'anima... La mia paura è questa. A chi l'ho venduta? La mia paura è questa, signor mio: allora, l'anima, uno se la vende, da solo, senza nessun compratore...

If you worry about every little thing you're going to have one thoroughly miserable life.

One of the most common blocks to effective directed prayer is the fear of failure.

Of course every woman tries to be a good mother, and then wonders if, after all her best efforts, her children will wind up on a headshrinker's couch complaining about bad treatment.

Although I have felt compelled to write things down since I was five years old, I doubt that my daughter ever will, for she is a singularly blessed and accepting child, delighted with life exactly as life presents itself to her, unafraid to go to sleep and unafraid to wake up. Keepers of private notebooks are a different breed altogether, lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss.

I feel as though I can only hold it together if I don't worry too much about its falling apart. (288)

It's like I'm carrying around this huge secret that I'm never supposed to tell. But since I don't remember just what I'm supposed to keep secret, I'm afraid I'll tell it by mistake.

Somehow this disorder hooks into all kinds of fears and insecurities in many clinicians.

Denial of death runs rampant through our culture, leaving us woefully unprepared when it is our time to die, or our time to help others die. We often aren't available for those who need us, paralyzed as we are by anxiety and resistance—nor are we available for ourselves.

She tightened her seat belt yet again, so she felt like she was wearing a strait jacket—appropriate dress for someone as crazy as she had to have been to come along on this trip.

He peered up the stairs. "Want to go first? Or last?" Debbie looked behind her. "Neither, but I suppose if I have to, I'll be first. I don't want something creeping up behind me." "I wish you wouldn't say dumb things like that!" Jeff shouted. He let her climb the stairs first, but he edged up sideways, one eye on the stairs behind them.

If he didn't go away from here, he'd still have to be here," Debbie said. She gave a little screech. "Oh, no! Don't say things like that, Jeff! You scared me!" "You're the one who said it, not me." "Well, you made me think it!

Anything could be hiding down here!" "Don't think like that. You'll just scare yourself." "I'm already scared!" "Well, don't scare me then!