The worst I ever felt

Anxiety & self-care

It was 1995. I was in my mid twenties, living in Park Slope, Brooklyn, and working in Manhattan as a set-up artist for a photo studio that shot jewelry catalogs. I was deeply unhappy; there were many roots to the unhappiness that all came together like a ball of twine at my solar plexus.

My whole life, I had thought of myself as a lower energy person. I didn’t seem to have the strength or stamina that other people my age had. But what began to happen to me in the mid-nineties, while I was in my mid-twenties, was a crippling fatigue. It wasn’t just that I was tired or frustrated by a crowded subway train or preferred staying in to going out. I was relentlessly exhausted. Daily life began to feel insurmountable.

I’m writing about anxiety - mine, yours, the world’s. Several times here and other places, I’ve mentioned a time in my life that I think of as “the worst I’ve ever felt.” This is the story of that time.