Quotes About Anxiety

Ever been in a spelling bee as a kid? That snowy second after the announcement of the word as you sift your brain to see if you can spell it? It was like that, the blank panic.

I'm here, I said, and it felt shockingly comforting, those words. When I'm panicked, I say them aloud to myself. I'm here. I don't usually feel that I am.

But I know I'll never sleep again. I can't close my eyes when I'm next to her. It's like sleeping with a spider.

I'm here, I said, and it felt shockingly comforting, those words. When I'm panicked, I say them aloud to myself. I'm here. I don't usually feel that I am. I feel like a warm gust of wind could exhale my way and I'd be disappeared forever, not even a sliver of fingernail left behind. On some days, I find this thought calming; on others it chills me.

Worries find you easily enough without inviting them. With Diane, worries were almost physical beings, leechy creatures with latchhooks for fingers, meant to be vanquished immediately. Diane didn't worry, that was for less hearty women.

Everywhere felt like a jail now- doors opening and closing, and me never feeling safe.

worries were almost physical beings, leechy creatures with latchhooks for fingers, meant to be vanquished immediately.

Camille, do you ever feel like bad things are going to happen, and you can't stop them? You can't do anything, you just have to wait?

Libby must have marinated in anxious stomach acid for nine months, soaking up all that worry.

He promised to take care of me, and yet I feel afraid. I feel like something is going wrong, very wrong, and that it will get even worse.

She was a worst-case scenarist on a grand scale. Because it was never just that the door was unlocked, it was that the door was unlocked, and men were inside, and they were waiting to rape and kill her.

Patty knew that feeling, a dream hangover, like when she jumped up from a panicky sleep at 2 in the morning and tried to talk herself into thinking the farm was OK, that this year would pick up, and then felt all the sicker when she woke up to the alarm a few hours later, guilty and duped. It was suprising that you could spend hours in the middle of the night pretending things were OK, and know in thirty seconds of daylight that that simply wasn't so.' -Dark Places

Patty knew that feeling, a dream hangover, like when she jumped up from a panicky sleep at 2 in the morning and tried to talk herself into thinking the farm was OK, that this year would pick up, and then felt all the sicker when she woke up to the alarm a few hours later, guilty and duped. It was surprising that you could spend hours in the middle of the night pretending things were OK, and know in thirty seconds of daylight that that simply wasn't so.

He promised to take care of me, and yet I feel afraid. I feel like something is going wrong, very wrong, and that it will get even worse. I don't feel like Nick's wife. I don't feel like a person at all: I am something to be loaded and unloaded, like a sofa or a cuckoo clock. I am something to be tossed into a junkyard, thrown into the river, if necessary. I don't feel real anymore. I feel like I could disappear.

I stand in the middle of my room and debate not answering. Bang bang bang. I understand now why so many horror movies use that device—the mysterious knock on the door—because it has the weight of a nightmare. You don't know what's out there, yet you know you'll open it. You'll think what I think: No one bad ever knocks .

We are one long frightening climax.

Because that means the day has ended. I like checking days off a calendar—151 days crossed and nothing truly horrible has happened. 152 and the world isn't ruined. 153 and I haven't destroyed anyone. 154 and no one really hates me. Sometimes I think I won't ever feel safe until I can count my last days on one hand. Three more days to get through until I don't have to worry about life anymore.

I'm here, I said, and it felt shockingly comforting, those words. When I'm panicked, I say them aloud to myself. I'm here. I don't usually feel that I am. I feel like a warm gust of wind could exhale my way and I'd be disappeared forever, not even a sliver of fingernail left behind. On some days, I find this thought calming; on others it chills me. My

stomach didn't hurt the way it did with my wife—the constant dread of returning to my own home, where I wasn't welcome.

Di solito non ho la sensazione di esistere. Ho l'impressione che una folata di vento possa spazzarmi via, facendomi scomparire per sempre, senza lasciare di me neppure un frammento di unghia. In certi giorni il pensiero mi pare rassicurante, in certi altri mi raggela. La sensazione di inconsistenza deriva, suppongo, dal fatto che so così poco del mio passato, o se non altro questa è la conclusione a cui arrivati gli strizzacervelli all'ospedale.

of me, and yet I feel afraid. I feel like something is going wrong

Something bad was going to happen.

I really believe Nick will come after me. I turn toward the house and see only a closed door.

who spends so much time worrying about