Is My Anxiety Going to Be the End of Me?

I was scrolling through my work messages from this time last year, and my heart sank. Opportunities I missed not because I wasn’t capable, but because my anxiety convinced me I wasn’t ready. The worst part? I’m still doing it. Still hesitating. Still letting fear write checks my potential could easily cash.

Take LinkedIn, for example. I used to post regularly, sharing thoughts, engaging, building something. Then my account got flagged again and now just opening the app makes my pulse spike. So I avoid it. Not because I don’t have anything to say, but because I’ve let anxiety turn a platform into a phantom.

Or school. Three carryovers. Three. And before you ask, yes, I’m smart. But if you’ve ever been through Nigeria’s educational system, you know it’s not just about intelligence. It’s about surviving a machine designed to humble even the brightest. So I developed a carefree attitude because pretending not to care hurt less than admitting how much I did.

Then there’s my personal life or lack of it. I avoid people because, honestly, what’s the point? Someone I cared about once told me, "We were never friends," and instead of anger, I just felt… tired. Not surprised. Just tired. Because anxiety had already prepared me for that betrayal. It always does.

This isn’t a guide. I don’t have answers. I’m still figuring it out, still missing chances, still overthinking, still retreating when I should be pushing forward.

But here’s what I do know:

Anxiety lies. It tells you that avoidance is safety, when really, it’s just another cage. It convinces you that you’ll fail before you even try, so why bother? It replays past rejections like a prophecy instead of what they really are - just moments, not your future.

So yeah, I’m still getting the hang of it. Still learning to separate the real risks from the ones my brain invents. Still trying to post when LinkedIn feels like a minefield. Still showing up for myself even when I’d rather disappear.

If you’re reading this and nodding along, here’s my only advice (for both of us):

Keep pushing. Not perfectly, not fearlessly but anyway.

Because anxiety might be loud, but it’s not the end of you.

And so help me, Lord.