The Identity Gap: Who You Are vs Who Anxiety Says You Are
I was chatting with a friend the other day, and out of nowhere, I made a joke that I’m pretty sure there are two versions of me.
We laughed about it at the time—it was a bit of a cheeky, lighthearted moment over a cuppa—but once the words settled, it was like a lightbulb moment. Because underneath it all, I realised it was entirely true.
Well, there’s the Real Us: the one who knows what matters, who’s lived enough life to have some wisdom tucked away, who can make a decent cup of tea and get on with things.
And then there’s Anxiety Us: the one who thinks a slightly delayed text means absolute catastrophe and that the dog’s sigh is a personal review of our character.
It’s the kind of thing where we don't even always notice they are both there. They just hum away in the background—a quiet, familiar little double act running along beside us.
The Daily Tug-of-War
For many of us, this internal double act isn’t dramatic. It’s not a constant meltdown or a perpetual crisis. Instead, it’s a subtle, daily negotiation between the steadier person we know is in there somewhere, and the person anxiety insists we might be.
Real You says: “Hey, we’re doing our best. That's enough.”
Anxiety You says: “Yes, but what if your best is actually a bit of a mess?”
Real You says: “Come on, we’ve handled things before.”
Anxiety You says: “Yes, and look how stressful that was.”
It’s a quiet little wrestle—not loud enough for anyone else to notice, but just enough to make you doubt your own footing. And the funny thing is, you don't usually even realise you're doing it until life throws a bit of a spanner in the works.
For me, that wake-up call was a sudden scare with my heart health. For you, it might be something similar—a health wobble, or maybe just total burnout, grief, or a job that finally pushed you past your limits. But it doesn't always have to be a massive drama. Sometimes, it’s just years of quietly carrying too much stuff without realising how heavy it’s gotten.
As I’ve mentioned before, I spent a lot of years struggling without even really understanding what it was. But when that heart scare happened, it felt like a massive spike in an already anxious system—and it shook me to my core.
The specific trigger doesn't actually matter, though. The details change, but that unsettling feeling inside is exactly the same. Something happens that suddenly makes you look at the gap between who you actually are, and who anxiety has been trying to tell you you are.
And once you see it, you can’t unsee it.
And this is the point where the shift can quietly begin. Not in some dramatic, cinematic “new me” moment, but in tiny, everyday realisations.
It's just about catching it out—seeing how fast the thoughts are suddenly racing, or the way they barge into your head like an over-fussy parish councillor with a clipboard. You start to recognise that familiar little flutter in your chest, or that sudden tightness that tries to convince you something is terribly wrong, even when you're just sat with your feet up listening to the radio.
And slowly, maybe you can turn it on its head. So instead of, “Oh no, does that mean….”, you can try, “Oh… hang on. No, that’s not me. That’s just anxiety doing impressions again.”
Let's be honest, I am not going to say it will then instantly just shut up. But it might just give you a bit of breathing room. A bit of clarity. A bit of yourself back.
Because here’s the thing we rarely give ourselves credit for: we adapt. We don't change by magically curing our anxiety—that’s not realistic, and honestly, anxiety is usually just trying (in a really clumsy way) to look out for us. Instead, we can slowly grow more into the Real Us by simply learning which voice is actually ours.
It just means you can finally hear yourself think again. You start trusting the reality of your day-to-day life more than the ridiculous catastrophes your brain tries to sell you. And that’s how the gap closes—not because life stopped being messy, but because you’ve just got a better handle on which voice to actually listen to.
The truth is, this is a pretty shared experience. Plenty of us have lived through things that forced us to pause and sort through the mental clutter.
If you recognise yourself in any of this, you’re definitely not alone. It turns out this particular corner of the world is pretty crowded—and we're all just learning to turn down the volume on the anxiety, and remembering that we were doing perfectly fine before it started butting in and making a nuisance of itself.
To see how you can start practicing this in real life, you only have to look at how the two of you might react the next time you step out the front door to go meet a friend.
Real You thinks: Right, I’m on my way. It’s a lovely day and it’ll be great to catch up.
Anxiety You instantly generates a multi-season boxset of worst-case scenarios: But what if you hit traffic? What if you’re five minutes late and they think you’re rude? What if you run out of things to say? What if it rains, you get soaked, and you look a total state? Maybe we should just stay inside where it’s safe.
The goal isn't to make that second voice instantly disappear. It’s just about learning to hear the absolute drama of that script, giving it a little smile, and keeping your feet moving down the pavement into the sunshine anyway.
So take a breath, leave the script behind, and just go and enjoy your catch-up.
Here are two more pieces you can dip into whenever it feels right:
The Shadows We Drag: How Past Fears Shape Today’s Anxiety
The Armour You Never Asked For: When Your Body Overreacts to Everything
Thanks for reading and virtual hugs to you all.
