Help, I’m Anxiously Thriving

aka, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Originally published on nikaburali.substack.com (May 04, 2025)

I’m sorta, kinda, in a way, I suppose, thriving, but I’m anxious about it. Thrilling life highlights include: me not entirely hating my job, petting my fiancé like the golden retriever he is, decorating our apartment however I please, and ocasionally crying because my parents are getting older. I know, how dare I.

I’ve completed two degrees. I landed the type of job little me used to dream about. I have a close relationship with my family. I am, quite literally, having the time of my life with the love of my life.

I got what I wanted, but at what cost?

Suddenly, the lack of chaos… rattles me? Like I’m a masochist who wants to inflict pain on herself.* My life is good, and apparently, I hate that for me. My achievements feel like guilt, my gratitude like grief, and my joy tastes like a forbidden fruit.

The moment I sit down and finally have a quiet moment to myself I feel dread. It sneaks into the smallest moments, I swear: eating, resting, receiving love. I zone it out by overstimulating: eating when I’m not hungry, watching TV while simultaneously scrolling TikTok. Hands up if you can relate. This sensation is like a cloud hanging over me. Like smoke following me. Like a fury ball of hair closing in on me.

Like I said before, in theory, rationally, I know I have nothing to worry about. Or not really. Nothing major. Yet I feel like I do. Constantly. I find things to stress over just to make me feel. Period. I clean a spot in my apartment that’s perfectly clean. I convince myself I’m dying even though my bloodwork comes back fine. I get mad I can only do five pull-ups even though a couple of weeks ago, I could barely do two. I ask my partner if he’d love me if I was a worm. He assures me he would.

It’s like I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop, while wearing a shoe that feels a size too big for me. Hands down, one of the ugliest feelings I’ve ever felt in my life. Waiting for the next big thing, the next milestone. And when I finally check another one off my list? Instead of relief, I feel misery. Make it make sense.

Anyhoooow, the more time passes, the better I feel. No joke. Don’t get me wrong, I still occasionally wait for the other shoe to drop, but now, the shoe is positioned better. I can see it out of the corner of my eye. I can see it coming. And the shoe I’m wearing? It doesn’t feel too big anymore. It fits, you guys! There are no blisters. There’s no pain.** I’m just still getting used to it. And let’s get this straight, I’m only walking weird because I’m still learning what it’s like to move without guilt, ok? Ok.

*I don’t, it’s just my brain.
**and if there is, there’s always Compeed at my home, bless ya.