#anxiety story

[girltalkcollectives]

The Fear of Being Called On

Let me paint you a picture of what social anxiety really looks like, because apparently some professors still don’t get it.

There I was, second day of class, sitting in my usual spot (back row, closest to the door — my fellow anxiety girlies know exactly why). The homework was done. Actually, it was more than done. I’d spent three hours the night before making sure I understood every single detail, highlighting important points, writing notes in the margins. Because that’s what we do, right? We over-prepare just to feel slightly less terrified.

But then it happened.

“Why don’t you explain this concept to the class?”

My name, hanging in the air like a death sentence. Twenty heads turning to look at me. The familiar wave of panic washing over me — heart racing, palms sweating, throat closing up. You know that feeling when your mind goes completely blank? Like someone just wiped your brain clean? Yeah. That.

And suddenly I’m rambling. The words are coming out all wrong. Everything I studied, everything I KNEW, turned into this jumbled mess of half-formed thoughts. I can hear myself talking, but it’s like I’m outside my body, watching this trainwreck happen in slow motion.

But the worst part? The absolute worst part wasn’t even the public humiliation. It was what happened after class.

Picture this: The professor pulls me aside, looks at me with that condescending smile (you know the one), and says, “If you don’t get it together, you’re getting a 0. You need to do the work.”

Let that sink in.

I did the work.

I ALWAYS do the work.

The work isn’t the problem.

MY ANXIETY IS THE PROBLEM.

I tried to explain. God, I tried. “I have social anxiety and so I have problems with public speaking,” I said, my voice shaking. “It’s hard for me to articulate my thoughts when I’m put on the spot.” Basic anxiety 101, right?

Her response? “It doesn’t seem like you did the work.”

EXCUSE ME?

Do you want to see my highlighted textbook? My color-coded notes? The three hours of work I did last night? The sleep I lost preparing for a class I was terrified to attend?

But here’s what I couldn’t say in the moment, what I wish I had screamed: Having social anxiety doesn’t mean I’m lazy. It doesn’t mean I’m unprepared. It means my brain literally fights against me every time I have to speak in public. It means I can know something inside and out but completely freeze when all eyes are on me.

So yeah, I dropped the class.

And before anyone comes at me with “you’re letting anxiety win” or “you need to push through it” — save it. Sometimes protecting your mental health means walking away. Sometimes self-care looks like saying “this environment is toxic for me” and choosing a different path.

To my girls out there dealing with social anxiety: I see you. I see you doing twice the work just to feel half as prepared. I see you picking seats based on escape routes. I see you having full conversations in your head that turn into gibberish the moment you have to speak them out loud.

You’re not lazy.

You’re not stupid.

You’re not unprepared.

You’re dealing with an anxiety disorder that people still refuse to understand.

And to that professor: I hope you read this. I hope you realize that somewhere in your classroom right now is another girl like me, doing all the work but drowning in fear. Maybe next time, instead of assuming she’s unprepared, consider that she might be fighting a battle you know nothing about.

Because let me make one thing crystal clear: My anxiety might make me stumble over my words, but it doesn’t make me any less capable, any less intelligent, or any less worthy of respect.

I dropped your class, but I’m not dropping my voice. This is me, speaking up about social anxiety, without stuttering, without fear — because writing lets me say what my anxiety won’t let me.

And to everyone reading this who gets it, who lives it, who feels it: You’re not alone. Your anxiety is real. Your struggles are valid. And don’t let anyone — especially not some teacher who doesn’t understand mental health — make you feel otherwise. 

This is bigger than one bad class experience. This is about a system that still doesn’t understand what anxiety does to us. And I’m done being quiet about it.

[jioniwashere]

That time I made an ARG... and failed.

On March 30th, My friend and assistant, Zoe, decided to recreate an old picture. It used to be part of an Augmented reality game; the ARG (which was called "The Missing Equinox") was about a kid who ran away from home and would leave clues of their ever-changing whereabouts through songs while their brother was looking for them, putting these missing posters everywhere that would later, be vandalized by the kid.

A musical ARG was something we never hear of, and I wanted to make it. Zoe did the art, and I the music, all culminating in the creation of the EP called "The Longest Night Archives: 2016-2019", which was supposed to be one of many. And though the account had less than 20 followers, we hoped that over time, it would grow more.

However, plans quickly fell through, mainly because my untreated anxiety, among other, more personal problems, crippled me.

A few days after we decided to cancel the project, I deleted most of my digital footprint, including most of the songs, an ep, and all the promotional media. Zoe and I made sure to have a backup, but these also got deleted or corrupted. The only things archived were a few images, including the original cover for The Longest Night Archives.

It's safe to say that the Original Ep and all the songs that made it so are now gone. And with the context of what it was about, it's ironically and tragically funny. But even then, it's just sad to think that all our effort is just gone and, for the most part, unarchived in some way or form. Zoe and I know we have a cassette with a demo of the songs made during that time, but we haven't found it yet. Even then, I don't think it has the full songs. But still is a bit of hope to linger on. Until then, this is the tragic end of the story.

[chio-chan2artbox]

Step Forward - Part 3 They are going on a date!!! Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 Check out my tags for fun facts XD

Kofi

[mooreaux]

Don't worry y'all I captured the exact moment they caught feelings for one another

[bixels]

I just saw one of your fave games is What remains of Edith Finch and I’m so happy! I feel like its a lesser known game but i loved playing through it. I’m so happy to know more than just my small friend group know about this game!

Sorry this isn’t a question. Also want to say that you’re art is amazing and the development of the designs is so interesting to see. Also the way you draw intimate scenes have so much emotion to them. I love the Aj and rarity kissing comic so much, you can just feel their love for each other ;w;

Thank you so much!

I highly, highly, highly recommend What Remains of Edith Finch to anyone interested in narrative game experiences/"walking simulators." It's one of those games that was handcrafted with nothing but love. Every room you explore is just... real. The way the light flows in and makes the colors of the living room, the kitchen, the bedrooms glow. Playing the game is like walking through your childhood home as an adult and seeing how the dust clings to everything you once touched. Also genius-level gameplay mechanics, ones that can make you completely empathetic with the character you're embodying or feel completely complacent in their tragedy. It's really not fair to call it a walking simulator because it's so much more and so much smarter than that.Everyone talks about the fish one.

The theme of death and memory and storytelling and the burden of invisible trauma and self-fulfilling prophecies is so affecting too. The ending made me cry.

[foldingfittedsheets]

You know when you’re in a bad situation and you make up little scenarios for how you’ll deal with the absolute most terrible next thing that could happen?

But then that thing never happens and all the imaginary scenarios with plans C-Z never need to be implemented?

I had one (1) time in my life that it actually played out that I needed the exact response to a scenario I had anticipated.

At the time I was living with my ex down in Arizona with, and I don’t capitalize this lightly, The Worst Roommates I’ve Ever Had. They were truly the absolute worst. My ex was friends with the boyfriend, so he and his girlfriend offered to move in with us when I moved down.

They picked the house, which was $1000 out of our budget, subsidized by the girlfriends mom. They had an extremely obese dog and a cat. Because they were moving in before us they filled the house entirely with all their stuff and felt entitled to kick us out of any area because of that.

We were watching a movie? Too bad, that was their tv and couch. When we argued we hadn’t been given the option to have a couch, tv, dishes, or literally anything except a bed they basically just shrugged. Things were in general very terrible and the communication was worse, but the straw that broke us was when they brought home a new puppy with absolutely no warning.

This led to a forty five minute full on screaming match and both couples retreating to their rooms, fuming. My mind was spinning very quickly though, because we had loudly declared we’d be moving out and this couple had shown that they viewed the house as theirs. I told my ex my worry but she shrugged it off as irrational.

After an hour of cooldown the boyfriend came into the hallway and I stepped out to meet him.

“Since you guys are moving out we don’t want you using our dishes or pans anymore,” he declared. That was my exact fear.

There wasn’t space to store additional dishes of our own, or the pans that I had in storage. So we’d have had a month of paper plates and no ability to cook or utensils to eat with.

I smiled and said, “I thought you might say that. If that’s the case, then I don’t believe we’ll be paying the water or electricity bills which are entirely in your name and don’t affect us.” Them camping out on all the ownership and leaving us out suddenly had a consequence.

He looked stunned and after a moment just said, “Well played.” He turned and walked back down the hall. I heard him repeat it to his girlfriend through the door as it closed, “That was really well played.”

I retreated to our room, shaking and stressed but proud that I’d scored a point. Our move went off alright and we settled into what would go down as the sketchiest place I’ve ever lived, but at least I didn’t have to worry about when I was allowed to watch TV.

[trans-ralsei]

[sforzesco]

some "new" designs for different crassus and pompey, specifically for a side project I've been playing with that's so removed from anything relevant (action/adventure/horror standalone story lmao) that they kind of needed their own thing. this story's pompey has a neck scar from an Incident™, crassus has shorter hair and wears (checks notes) jewelry sometimes.

[lydiaalin]

save me horror cowboy game ocs save me

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ]

This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.

She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.

But it'd been almost a week since then.

The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

That counted for something.

Not much, but something!

..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.

There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.

She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.

So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.

Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.

Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.

She really didn't like it.

There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.

She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.

She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.

That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.

Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.

But he wasn't.

He was out running her nation, instead.

And what was she doing? Nothing!

She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.

Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.

Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.

..She wasn't ready.

What was she supposed to say?

Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?

She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.

For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.

Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.

Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.

It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Focalors?"

The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.

She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.

"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"

The silence is deafening.

She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!

"Lady Furina?"

Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.

"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.

Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.

Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.

"Why aren't you killing me?"

The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.

She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.

"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."

The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.

He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.

..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?

How unfair.

"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"

She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.

..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.

She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.

For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.

Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.

For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.

Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.

She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.

She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.

She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.

"Again."

[givethispromptatry]

"You don't dance?"

"Nope."

"Why?"

"... Are you asking because you feel socially obligated to or are you asking because you're genuinely curious?"

"Now because I am genuinely curious."

[moonolor]

Pixar cuties 🫶

[dromaeo-sauridae]

i think im getting artblocked again (in the middle of a big project too, awesome) have a pegasus

[serpentface]

This was going to be a panel of a little comic but I got too invested in drawing minute background details so, here.

[kedreeva]

#we spoke of this a LOT at work after that one tech was murdered and hidden in a wall

hi!👋 hello! kedreeva! i’m going to need to ask you to explain this!!!!

So back in 2009, a lab student named Annie Le was murdered at Yale university. Cameras saw her going on into a building, but not out again and it was like, the eve of her wedding (or close to? I don't remember) so clearly she had places to be and people waiting for her so they immediately started looking and the next day (or so? Anyway on the day of her wedding) they found her body in a recess in a wall, down in the areas where the research animals were kept. It turns out, a tech had killed her, but since there were cameras like EVERYWHERE, he just, I guess, left her there. Well, hid the body where it was. I don't remember how they caught him, but they did. It was a horrifying story. It still is.

And it was a huge news story among the folks at my workplace because, at the time, I was working at a different university, as an animal husbandry technician. As you can imagine this was a kind of intense time to be in that situation. They started offering, like, I'm not gonna say counseling but it was "if you need to talk we would prefer you talk to us about something wrong rather than kill anyone about it" and as techs (even if we were not even the same kind of tech, the killer was a lab tech and we were husbandry techs but I think a lot of people assumed it had been a husbandry tech since she was in an animal area), we were kind of getting the side eye from lab people for weeks afterwards. Like they thought we were gonna go "wow that's a fantastic idea, you're next!" or something, idk. And I mean like, people would freeze when you were alone in a hallway, or turn and walk the other way, or duck into the nearest room and watch you walk past, and they were all being super nice/civil to us when they did have to interact. It was very atypical behavior for lab people. Like not all of them, some of them had always been nice and weren't worried, but some of the people who had been unbelievable dicks previously were walking on eggshells. And the people who had friends in other universities reported this was happening at their jobs, too.

And instead of talking to The Man (because all the higher ups were garbage at the time), we just. talked among ourselves. It was a lot of "I may say I feel like strangling lab people sometimes when they do things that drive me up a wall but I don't MEAN it you know that right" and it also led to group discussions of what would be a theoretical *better* solution to hiding a body than what happened, with clear disdain for doing things like hiding bodies in walls, which is a terrible idea and one we would never do (looking at the people who think we might have decided this was a great idea actually).

Which consequently led to a lot of supervisors and/or managers that happened to overhear us bringing us donuts or arranging pizza for lunch in like, some kind of bid to help us feel appreciated, I guess, so that we wouldn't murder anyone, even though none of us were going to do that anyway. But also none of us were in a position to turn down free donuts or pizza or whatever.

And then after a few weeks, maybe a month or so, people just kind of forgot and moved on and things went back to normal like fifty people hadn't spent every lunch hour for weeks talking quietly among themselves about how human bodies would definitely fit into a carcass disposal barrel or that you'd have to crush hip bones and/or skulls before incineration. Hypothetically.

Like I said, it was a VERY weird time to be at my job, and every time I remember it happening feels like a fever dream. I can't even imagine what it was like at Yale.

[mercifullymad]

i feel passionately about the need to enfold people experiencing (or diagnosed) with "just" depression or anxiety into the mad pride project. the more people who view themselves as mad, the better. much as the rhetorical move from "neurotypical" to "neuroconforming" emphasizes the artifice & social construction of "neurotypicality," so too will expanding identification as "mad" expose the sane/mad dichotomy as a false one.

it's true that (some) people with "just" depression and/or anxiety have an easier time navigating the psych system than people who have more stigmatized diagnoses. but this is not to say that they necessarily have an easy time — the carceral psych system is hostile to everyone subsumed by it, even the most "privileged" patients. we should of course critique & examine how our experiences are shaped by various intersections of privilege, but we cannot forget or ignore how someone with "just" a depression/anxiety diagnosis can still experience the full force of the carceral psych system brought down upon them (including but not limited to involuntary institutionalization, police intervention, & forced medication or other forced treatment).

we must encourage, if not insist, that those with the least-stigmatized diagnoses view their difficult experiences navigating the psych system as bound up with the liberation of people who have more stigmatized diagnoses &, often, a more violent experience of the psych system. we need more people to drop the "i have anxiety/depression but i'm not crazy" line and say loudly, "i have anxiety/depression & i am crazy. my access to just treatment is linked to the conditions of all other crazy people, who are my allies, peers, & friends. we are united in our cause & we all deserve a more liberating system of care."