anxious - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Janet felt the need to move almost without end; if her limbs were moving the anxiety was gone, or at least she could ignore it a while. As the countryside passed she could loose herself in nature, much like in a dream. It was only inside walls that she knew it was still there, coursing through her veins as if it hitched a ride on her blood cells.
The anxiety sits below my smile, my actions, my silly jokes... It is there like over- caffienation but without the option not to drink a cup. So there I am, all amped up with no escape.
The anxiety is like being hooked up to a cattle fence - not enough voltage to kill but sufficient to keep things uncomfortable. I guess that's the downside of knowing things are awry instead of living in blissful ignorance. But what is there to do other than breathe, walk and figure things out just a little at a time?
I know I'm anxious when I feel the wind more keenly in my eyes; it's that tearless stage when the eyes take on a sheen of water and a tension builds behind them. I need to shake it off. Now isn't the time or place for tears. Today is a day for gallows humour and false confidence. My fingers wrap into Ben's hand, feeling how cold his fingers are. When he turns my way to smile, a gesture meant to reassure and give confidence, he gives away the worry he means to mask.
The more anxious she became the more pronounced became her intellectualization of the whole process. She rationalized and viewed the problem from different view points. She gabbled and sort the agreement of everyone around her, as if she could force a positive outcome by her sheer brilliance of thought.
Nelda had been pacing back and forth like a caged tiger;
Leon worried. Things he felt he should have done, coupled with his perceived failures dominated his mind. He thought about his actions and words, finding them inadequate. Festering guilt rendered his mind ineffective, his short term memory shot. He lost keys, forgot appointments. But if a friend called by needing his counsel, he would smile warmly and set a pot of coffee before sitting to listen as if there was nothing he wanted to do more. Helping others settled his mind, allowing his logical thinking to re-emerge.
Often while he dwelt on the fine details of his life, the big picture escaped him. Given any opportunity to be generous with his time and money he had taken it as a blessing from God, never holding back enough for retirement or to see his kids through college. Now they were angry; heavily in debt and living on beans. All they saw was a bleeding-hearted old man who frittered money rather than saving for life's necessities.
There it goes again, my inner dialogue, but it's not my friend. It whispers to me, "Everything has gone wrong, it's terrible, no way back, disaster, ruin..." The world seems closer to my eyes and the air becomes more soupy, harder to breathe. A glossy sheen coats my eyes that wasn't there before and my thoughts scatter like there's an electrical storm in my head, too many short-circuits to make any sense. All the while the only thing that comes through is "You're failing, it's over, give up, run away..."
Don't they know? It's not easy taking a step forward when you don't know where your foot will fall.