The one where I talk about anxiety again

Sharing experiences normalizes them

Photo by Josh Boot on Unsplash

I try to write a newsletter every week. Sometimes it’s two weeks between newsletters, but since I started Digital Hope over a year ago, it’s never been this long.

A month or so ago, I wrote about digital agoraphobia — the fear I was feeling about putting myself out there in digital spaces. It subsided some, but grappling with it and listening to the input of trusted friends and family members helped me realize that my anxiety had reached a debilitating level.

I didn’t want to write a newsletter because I knew I’d feel compelled to edit and revise too many times. I dreaded the process. I was pouring over drafts of already completed work, triple- and quadruple-checking data and sources. I was worrying about everything. Overthinking everything.

Exhausting. Unsustainable.

I went back to therapy and I met with my primary care provider to discuss options for dialing my anxiety back down. I’m feeling a lot more calm and centered now. I’m able to write again using a more reasonable editing process.

Why am I telling you this?

As I came to understand what I was going through, I started opening up to friends about my struggles. Several of them shared that they too struggle with anxiety. They talked with me about the various ways they deal with it; everything from yoga to supplements to counseling to medication. It was helpful to hear there are lots of options.

But until I told them what I was going through, I had no idea they experienced the same thing. I felt scared and vulnerable opening up. I didn’t know I would be met with so much understanding and acceptance.

I’m telling you about my experience in case you’re dealing with something similar. You’re not alone. It’s okay to share what you’re feeling in whatever way feels safe and helpful to you.

I choose to share in this digital space — even though I feel vulnerable — because willingness to talk about experiences (when we’re ready) normalizes them. It raises awareness, opens the door to connecting with others facing similar situations, and encourages people to reach out for support. It may even help us find comfort, peace, and resolution ourselves.

Berenice Howard-Smith, owner of Hello Lovely, an award-winning, creative service for print, book and online design, shares many delightful things in digital spaces. I love her “spine poetry” posts on LinkedIn showcasing the artistry and importance of book spines. She also sometimes shares about her experiences as person who is childless not by choice and The Full Stop podcast for “involuntary childless & allies” she co-presents.

She recently posted a link to a new Allure interview with Jennifer Aniston (of Friends fame) that revealed the actress’s painful experiences with IVF failure. Pointing out how rare it is to hear about the long-lasting impact of unsuccessful IVF, Howard-Smith gently asked her followers to take the time to read the interview (it’s deeply moving) and strive to support people who have not chosen to be childless.

“It should not be entirely up to us, who have endured the trauma of failed fertility treatment, and miscarriages to correct ignorant suggestions,” she wrote.

I haven’t had that experience myself, but because of Howard-Smith’s willingness to share this painful and private thing, I’m now aware of the many ways our customs and systems exclude involuntarily childless people and exacerbate their trauma. I am more mindful of my own erroneous assumptions and ignorant suggestions, and I’m better equipped to advocate for kinder and inclusive discourse and policies.

Her story-sharing changed me. Judging by comments on her posts, it has opened many more eyes than mine … and made those with similar experiences feel seen, heard, and valued.

Embracing transparency, honesty, and openness in our digital activity is often emotionally taxing and scary, but it can also lead to profound and important realizations. There is power in revealing the fullness of our lives. It softens hearts. Changes minds. Gives hope to those who feel alone or lost. Forges connections and understanding that help us build a more compassionate, inclusive world together.

Thank you for being willing to listen. It means a lot. I hope to see you next week as I get back to writing on a more regular basis.

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