My Inherited Anxiety—And How I Chose to Cope with It

Have you ever wondered what anxiety must have looked on you if you were born in a different era? Would it be as beautiful as the longing of a lover’s safety letter? As breathtaking as the doubt in the taste of food when you are meeting your in-laws for the first time? Or as inspiring as the fear to not be as successful as you thought you would? 

Through generations, anxiety has been termed as stress, tension, overthinking, and whatnot. Basically anything but a medical condition. This is why it's difficult to identify the thin line between them. 

My G-mom (grandmother) struggled with anxiety through days and months not knowing if my grandfather was still breathing in the hospital bed in the nearest city. She churned and churned the wheel to make flour every day to earn money for his treatment while making sure her children went to school with their stomachs full. And my mother befriended anxiety settling in as a perfect daughter, daughter-in-law, wife, and mother. Being the first child she was married earliest, and promptly given shoes far too big to fill by society. She constantly fought with herself and her career to stand as a strong pillar behind my father and for us. She made sure that her children received a proper education so we were able to stand for ourselves. 

But anxiety still continued to crawl its way through the women in my family. Today, I struggle with anxiety despite having the luxury of smartphones to connect and despite being able to support myself independently. I can feel the anxiety creeping in my routine, my relationships, and everywhere I look, and I have nothing to justify it (not that I need to). It's funny how anxiety is always about the future or present but no one talks about how the roots of it lie in our past. We never knew from where to uproot it, so it became a part of our lives, our personalities.

However my G-mom got through her life, she made sure that my mother didn't go through the same, and my mom did the same for me. But if only there was someone to tell us that in the process of caring for the next person, we forgot to see that anxiety was still wrapped as a gift in the lineage. Yesterday’s shortcoming was taken care of, but the roots still remained with the kin.

Today this ends with me. My anxiety shall not be passed on to my siblings or even my future children (although just the thought of having them almost makes me have a panic attack right here, but you get my point).

My G-Mom and my mother have paved the way towards a less anxious world. I am on the constant journey to identify my anxious roots, and I am determined to learn to manage them. This generation, I will make sure that what is passed on is not anxiety, but the skill to understand it.

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