Anxiety Isn’t Who You Are—It’s Just Trying to Take Over the Wheel

Let’s clear something up right now: you are not your anxiety.
You’re not your overthinking.
You’re not your spiraling thoughts at 2 a.m.

You are you.
Anxiety is just tagging along—usually uninvited—and trying to tell you how to drive your life.

So why does it feel so loud?

Anxiety has a way of hijacking your day and making you question everything. That text you sent? “Too much.” That thing your friend said? “They hate you now.” That guy you went on a date with? “He’s ghosting. Obviously.”

The thing is, anxiety is rarely subtle. It’s dramatic. It tells stories with the worst possible endings. And it has this incredible talent for taking a single piece of information and turning it into a full-blown crisis in less than five seconds.

And if you grew up queer—especially in environments where safety, acceptance, or belonging weren’t always guaranteed—then your anxiety might not just be about one moment. It might be a survival tool you developed to stay alert, stay safe, and stay ahead of rejection.  In that sense, anxiety isn’t “crazy.” It’s overprotective. It just… doesn’t know when to be silent.

But here’s the good news: you’re in the driver’s seat.  

Imagine your life as a road trip. You’re in the front seat, hands on the wheel. Anxiety? It’s that annoying presence in the passenger seat who keeps giving unhelpful directions like “Turn left now!” or “What if the brakes fail?”

You don’t have to kick anxiety out of the car entirely (trust me, it’ll try to sneak back in anyway), but you can move it to the backseat. You can stop letting it choose your route. The more you start saying, “Thanks for the input, but I’ve got this,” the more confident you’ll feel behind the wheel.

Let me help you see what that looks like in real life.  Let’s say you're about to go on a first date. Cue the usual anxiety playlist:
“What if he doesn’t like me?”
“What if I’m awkward?”
“What if I get rejected again?”

Now instead of trying to make those thoughts disappear (spoiler: they probably won’t), try this instead: acknowledge the anxiety. Thank it for trying to protect you. And then remind yourself: “I'm allowed to be nervous and still show up.”Because anxiety doesn’t get to define you, your courage does.

Or maybe you’re in a rough patch at work. Your brain’s yelling, “You’re failing! You’re falling behind! You’re not good enough!” Pause. Breathe.  And remember: That’s anxiety talking, not truth. You are allowed to feel overwhelmed and still be capable.

You must remember that you are not broken because you have anxiety.  You’re not “too sensitive.” You’re not weak. You’re not less-than.

You have likely been carrying too much for too long, as a queer person struggling with stigma, discrimination, hate, and violence. You’ve probably been told to stay strong, be chill, or “get over it.” And maybe no one ever really sat you down and said: “Hey, what you’re feeling makes total sense. And you’re still lovable exactly as you are.”

So let me say it now: What you’re feeling makes sense.  And you are still worthy of love, connection, and peace—even on your anxious days.  

Anxiety might speak loudly, but it doesn’t get the final word. You do.  You’re not the panic. You’re not the fear. You’re not the story your brain tells when it’s tired and scared.

You are the one noticing it all.  You are the one choosing to stay kind to yourself.  You are the one at the wheel.  And even if you have to pull over sometimes and catch your breath—that’s okay. You're still moving forward.