Personal Stories About General Anxiety
My Comical War

My personal stories about general anxiety

I was 15, it was a new class…new teacher…role call time…and I was tense as a cat on coals.

It was yet another day of seemingly another cruel teacher and my anxiety was throttling by the minute into high gear.

I hated role call…hated the nervous and almost paralyzing quietness; grew nauseous through the dreaded waiting of my own name to leave the teachers lips.  Would my voice be loud enough for her to hear?  Probably not!  Then everyone will look at me, just like last time and wait for me to use pronunciation loud enough for human hearing instead of that of the fly sitting quietly and almost rudely upon my desk.

“Here!” I squeaked awkwardly in my desperate attempt to avoid the horror of past failure.  Few!  She heard me, thank goodness, I’m saved.

I began to relax out of my ready to run pose of terror, letting myself sit back for what I hoped would be a anxiety free lecture. 

“SPEECH” the teacher writes on the board in large, screaming, nail shredding white chalk.

“No” I whisper just below my breath, my chest beginning to suddenly tighten into small heaved breaths. 

My mind begins to race as my eyes search quickly for the exit just in front of popular club guys nodding head.  I lock my eyes to the front chalkboard, too fearful to catch the gaze of my new torture loving teacher’s eyes; can’t possibly risk being called for to be her first blood sacrifice of front of the room proportions.

It worked and she picked the sucker up front.  Silently I breathed a temporary sigh of relief, containing my mental quest of escape from this new anxiety hell hole.

As the minutes rage on I carve my plan of avoidance.  After class I’ll tell the teacher I have a condition…seizures or something that prevent me from walking up front.  Maybe I could bring on a fake throwing up…or faint?

I lean back in my desk as far as possible, trying my best to blend into the dark shadows behind. 

Finally, the bell rings out in my ears like a beautiful, phenomenal orchestra of victory…my own personal star spangled banner of freedom!

Alas, free two more days until next time, and I have made it through my war and lived.

I walk out into the crowded hall, smiling politely at the unaware teacher as I passed, knowing her reign of terror now held no more power over me as I skipped rejoicing to the exit door. 

Seems to me that it’s people that battle anxiety who live the richest emotion in this world.

What other common thing can evoke such thanksgiving and bliss?  :)

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