Don’t Worry, I Give Myself Anxiety – Official Music Video | #anxiety

Details

Description

Don’t worry. I got this. That’s what I always say. Over and over, like a reflex, like a lullaby I sing to myself in the middle of collapse. I whisper it when no one’s watching. I mutter it with a shaky breath when I’m holding myself together by threads no one else can see.

It’s strange how easy it is to act strong when you’re the one setting the stage for your own collapse. I built this whole thing—this moment, this madness. I chose the cage. I picked the highest point, directly above the fire, where every breath feels like it might ignite my lungs. And I did it knowing I had the key in my own hand the entire time. I never lost it. Never gave it away.

People think anxiety sneaks up on you, like a sudden storm. But for me, it’s more like a ritual. I start it. I light the candles. I lock the doors. I pace in circles, thinking it’s someone else chasing me, when it’s been me, always me, the whole time.

Sometimes I wish I could blame someone. Say it was their words, their absence, their cruelty that did this. But no. I’m the architect. I carve the stone, I bend the bars, I climb inside without a push. I make it look like tragedy, but it’s rehearsed. I’ve done it before.

And even now, as I sit in this self-made prison, feeling the heat rise beneath me, I still cling to the idea that I’m in control. That by choosing the pain, I’m somehow stronger than if I had chosen peace.

The truth is, it’s easier to punish myself than to explain myself. It’s easier to suffer in silence than to ask for help and risk being misunderstood. There’s a strange comfort in being the one who causes the chaos—because at least then, you’re not surprised when it hits.

People look at me and see someone composed. High-functioning, maybe. Clever. Capable. But they don’t see the negotiations I make with my own fear just to get out of bed. They don’t hear the endless conversation happening behind my eyes. They don’t know how many decisions I unmake in a day just to keep breathing steadily.

And maybe they never will. Maybe I won’t let them.

But the air knows. The air has heard every version of me. The trembling one. The raging one. The one who nearly gave up. The one who climbed into the cage and whispered, “Don’t worry, I got this,” like it was both a confession and a dare.

So here I am again, suspended over the fire, mask on, key in hand. And I say it again. I say it not because it’s true, but because it’s what I say when I don’t know what else to do.

Don’t worry. I got this.

And maybe one day, I’ll mean it.

#anxiety