The Day I Realised I Was Scared of Good Things
Why anxiety can feel safer than happiness and why letting your guard down is one of the hardest things we do.
Here are two more pieces you might enjoy sitting with:
A few days ago, I caught myself waiting for something to go wrong.
The strange thing was that at that moment, nothing was actually wrong. I wasn't anticipating an uncomfortable conversation, no unexpected problems were demanding my attention, and there was no looming crisis (though, let's be honest, my brain was convinced one was right around the corner🤨). In fact, it was quite the opposite. I was in an OK space, and everything was just ticking along.
And yet, there I was. Waiting for the catch. Waiting for the “but.” Waiting for life to tap me on the shoulder because, being an overthinker, my brain is convinced that good things always come with an expiration date.
And it suddenly hit me: perhaps I wasn’t afraid of feeling anxious. Perhaps what I was really afraid of was feeling happy. Not because happiness is frightening—far from it. But because happiness requires me to do something I have never found particularly easy. It requires me to lower my guard.
I know I have talked before about the fear of happiness and the strange discomfort we can experience when life feels “too” calm. But after my “light bulb moment” the other day, I’ve been looking at it from a slightly different angle: not just why happiness can feel uncomfortable, but why anxiety can somehow feel so much safer.
At first glance, that sounds ridiculous. Why would anyone choose anxiety over happiness? Yet the more I pondered on it, the more it began to make a strange sort of sense.
Yes, anxiety is exhausting, frustrating, and overwhelming, but it is also deeply familiar. I’ve spent years living alongside it. I’m getting better at catching its warning signs, and I know how it operates. It’s a place I know how to handle.
Happiness, on the other hand, can feel surprisingly unfamiliar—and I’ve always had a tendency to trust what’s familiar, even when it’s exhausting.
Anxiety is having a brain that would insist on packing an umbrella for a holiday in the Sahara. So much time is spent running every possible disaster scenario through my head. Not because these things might happen, but because bracing for the worst has just become my autopilot. It just hums away in the background, keeping watch. It isn't a conscious choice, it's just there.
The funny thing is, on those days when things are quiet and nothing is wrong, my brain doesn't quite trust that quiet. It keeps one eye on the horizon, looking for a storm that likely isn't coming. The habit is just there, even though I know most of those feared scenarios never happen.
The more I thought about it, the more I realised that maybe the real challenge isn't just surviving the rough days. Maybe the real challenge is figuring out how to let myself just be happy.
It feels strange to admit, because happiness is what I want. Yet when a genuinely good, happy moment arrives, I don't immediately relax into it.
Instead, I find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop. I start wondering what I've missed, what's around the corner, or if I'm being foolish for just letting myself enjoy it. It's as though my mind can't quite accept that happiness is actually here, so it tends to keep searching until it finds something to worry about.
This is the part that caught me off guard. Good moments are supposed to feel simple, happy, fun, but no one really talks about how vulnerable it can feel to be so completely exposed.
Enjoying them means dropping my guard, not bracing for what might be around the corner, not keeping a constant watch. Just letting myself be. And that can be terrifying.
Letting myself feel like that is to accept that I am not in control. It means admitting that I don't know where that moment will take me. And because I'm so used to using anxiety as a shield, lowering that guard feels like... well, walking outside without a coat in the middle of winter and wondering why I'm suddenly freezing.
I know that this isn't something that will change overnight just because I've come to understand it a bit more. It's a gradual process. But I'm going to try catching myself when I start waiting for the catch—deciding not to shy away, to stay present instead of retreating back into the usual vigilance, and letting myself enjoy a good moment without constantly checking if it's going to last.
I think I am going to try treating it like that weirdly catchy pop song that always comes out every summer. I don't need to analyse the lyrics to see if they actually make sense; I just need to nod my head, enjoy the beat, and let myself dance in the kitchen for five minutes without caring about looking silly.
And that's enough for now. I've crossed a line, jumped a hurdle, and now I can gently figure out how to do it.
The Courage of Enjoying a Good Day: When Calm Feels Suspicious Instead of Comforting
The Calm That Feels Suspicious: Why Peace Makes Anxious Minds Uneasy
Thanks for reading and virtual hugs to you all.
