Journey of Anti-Anxiety

Anxiety looks different for everyone. It can mean shutting yourself off from the world because everything feels like too much. It can look like talking less out of fear of judgment, replaying your words long after a conversation ends, or overthinking a simple exchange until it feels heavy and complicated. It can be the constant worry about what comes next — the “what ifs” that steal the present moment and replace it with imagined worst-case scenarios.

Anxiety took many forms for me. It was analyzing every conversation, wondering if I said the wrong thing or sounded foolish. It was keeping my mouth shut when I wanted to speak up, shrinking myself to avoid possible criticism. It was lying awake at night worrying about future events that hadn’t happened, preparing for problems that didn’t exist yet. It made small things feel urgent and ordinary moments feel overwhelming. From the outside, it may not have always been obvious, but internally it was loud, persistent, and exhausting — a constant hum that shaped how I moved through my days.

I was reluctant to take any medication for it. I wanted to solve the problem through therapy, specifically cognitive behavioural therapy. I started attending regular sessions every week. My therapist said something that made my mind click. She said, “Why worry about something that has not happened yet?” That simple sentence made me rethink things. I don’t know the outcome of a future event, so why should I worry about it? I kept asking myself that question, and it really helped.

However, all my anxious tendencies have not changed despite my working towards a better me. My family doctor recommended I go on a small dosage of Escitalopram Oxalate. She had recommended this to me before, but I said no, convinced I could change things with therapy. Things at work had gotten bad, I went on medical leave, and I took this as a sign that maybe I should take something for my anxiety. I grabbed the prescription and headed for the drug mart. Thirty minutes later, I had the pill bottle in my hands. I worried that without my racing thoughts and heightened emotions, I might become distant, flat, or somehow less human — as if anxiety had been tangled up with my personality all along.

I set an alarm, and every day for several weeks I started taking the medication, instead what I found was so much better. I was no longer worried about our future and what it might hold; I was no longer overthinking simple conversations with neighbours. I did not want to avoid people on the sidewalks because I was worried they would want to stop and chat. I felt more myself than I have in a really long time. It wasn’t that I had become soulless; it was that I was learning who I was without constant fear shaping every feeling.

My husband began to notice the change before I fully did. He saw that I wasn’t as moody anymore, that small inconveniences no longer sent me spiralling into overthinking or frustration. Instead of reacting to every little thing, I responded with steadiness. There was more laughter in our home, more lightness in my voice, more patience in my tone. He told me I seemed happier — not numb, not distant — just calmer and more present. Where anxiety once made everything feel urgent and overwhelming, now there is space to breathe, to smile, and to simply enjoy the moment without it unravelling me. This medication helped me become a better spouse, a better partner. I was more willing to communicate my feelings. I thought that if I took pills, that was the end of me, but instead, I was calm, confident and overall excited about life again.

If you feel like your emotions are overwhelming, or if you are moody and constantly snapping, maybe consider an option that won’t make you soulless but instead helps you become a better version of yourself — one who can truly enjoy being with your family. Conversations won't escalate as quickly, tough arguments are led with a calming effect. My husband no longer needs to walk on eggshells to protect me.

Reader, you might be against taking medications, but if it gives you the chance to be better for your family, maybe it is worth it? Instead of unintentionally hurting people you love and building resentment around you because of your irrational behaviour you can create a safe space for joy, laughter, and a lighter environment for your family. Not everything is met with intensity. I chose to be better for those around me; it was not a selfish decision, but every day I am grateful for the medications. It was not the outcome I anticipated; it turned out to be the peace of mind that I needed.

In choosing growth and balance, I’ve helped create a home that feels more peaceful for everyone.