Quotes About Anxiety

Only those who have been truly afraid can understand the crippling hold it can have on you.

Something inside me squeezes up tight like a sponge that is being wrung out

Were you frightened? One gets tired of being frightened, wouldn't you agree?

Etna know to be true, since Dr. Little seldom speaks during her time with him. He will neither confirm nor deny her insights, a practice that invariably makes her more anxious when she leaves his office than when

It's more that I'm afraid of time. And not having enough of it. Time to figure out who I'm supposed to be… to find my place in the world before I have to leave it. I'm afraid of what I'll miss.

Lena knew she had spent too much of her life in a state of passive dread, just waiting for something bad to happen. In a life like that, relief was as close as you got to happiness.

The happiness at getting what you want is not usually commensurate with the worry leading up to it.

He spent too much of his time responding to disasters that never happened.

My dad was giving me a kind of pep talk and my mom had a smile on her face, but she just looked like she wanted to cry. She's looking at this little girl holding a stuffed animal on her way to deliver a baby. I can't even begin to imagine.

I didn't want anybody to see me walking out of the hospital with this baby. We got into the car and my mom said, "What's wrong?" I said, "I'm afraid that someone's gonna come take the baby." I was waiting for the police to come. Giving up my first son had left such an imprint. It was trapped in my brain…I was not allowed to be a mother. Society

By the time I reached school, I was shaking. I felt as if my entire world had warped and twisted like a funhouse mirror. Nothing was the same as it had been a month ago.

I don't care what it was. What if that happens tonight? What if the Home Underground collapses on the Lost Boys? What if the nursery set falls over? I don't want to be responsible for killing Kristy.

Dawn had not yet said anything nice. She was trying to be friendly, but something wasn't right. Did she think I looked terrible? Was she mad at me?

We don't want to be naked if … you know," Carolyn added. "If the monster comes?" Mary Anne asked. The girls blushed.

My heart was acting like a prisoner in the Tower of London, banging against the walls. I had to hold my hand against it. I was afraid it would escape.

I looked at my watch. 2:30. I really should go back to sleep soon or I'd be a basket case at school tomorrow, I thought, but I was avoiding nightmares of my own. I had them pretty often, more often than Courtenay did. I knew they weren't real, I knew they wouldn't hurt me, but they still scared me to death.

What if it was someone else, someone who remembered something awful about the last Halloween masquerade, twenty-eight years ago?

Normally, my friends and I laugh and joke while we walk to school. Not today. Just the thought that someone we knew might have died put a dark cloud over everything. The main building of Stoneybrook Middle School loomed in the distance, and my heart started thudding faster. I think everyone's did.

It was a gloomy day, gloomy outside and gloomy inside. Nobody felt like having a meeting of the Baby-sitters Club. Dawn and I were depressed, Claudia was mad because she'd flunked a spelling test, Mary Anne was upset because her kitten, Tigger, had worms and Stacey was upset because she had a doctor's appointment coming up and she hates doctor's appointments.

Deb Cooper was missing.

There is nothing spooky about mindfulness. It is simply a state of clear, nonjudgmental, and undistracted attention to the contents of consciousness, whether pleasant or unpleasant. Cultivating this quality of mind has been shown to reduce pain, anxiety, and depression; improve cognitive function; and even produce changes in gray matter density in regions of the brain related to learning and memory, emotional regulation, and self-awareness.

Some nights," I said, "I picture myself naked, covered in napalm, running down the street. But then it's not napalm. It's apple butter. And it's not a street. It's my mother.

She keeps coming over to my table and asking me if everything's all right, as though I might be able to reassure her that the world is not coming to an end. "Yes," I tell her. "Everything's fine. It's just history running its course." She smiles sweetly and flees.

So afraid to go outside, to be happy, to be with other people, because they do not understand what it is like.