Living in the shadow of death

Anxiety and overthinking have a crippling psychological weight. They steal moments of joy and stop you from living your best life.

Just this past weekend, I had to cancel plans with friends. A sudden wave of unease came over me and anxiety took control.

Instead of enjoying their company, I stayed indoors the entire weekend, unable to shake the angst.

My body is constantly in fight-or-flight mode. My mind is loud and chaotic, filled with intrusive thoughts that trigger endless fear. I live in constant anguish that something bad will happen – and sometimes it feels like I’m going to die.

The dreams I have, certain paths that I had banned in my head and even the smallest changes in my body make me think: why did that happen? Am I going to die?

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These thoughts replay often in my mind and it gets worse until, somehow, my mind regulates itself. Then it’s calm – until the next trigger.

I know I’m not alone in this experience. Many of us deal with the overwhelming grip of anxiety and fear.

A recent work trip was a nightmare. As I was about to leave the house, my mother assured me nothing was going to happen.

When I tried to replay her words on the trip, I felt uncomfortable every second. Anxiety followed me everywhere, making it impossible to enjoy the experience.

Although I have always self-diagnosed that it’s anxiety, death has always been my biggest fear. Death is an uncomfortable topic for many, but growing up in a prominently black community, it’s often a taboo subject.

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We are taught the belief that “Yinto yabantu abadala” – which loosely translates to “it is for grown-ups”; not something children should discuss.

I recall attempting to have a casual conversation about it with my mother. Two issues dominated the agenda … well, three. Who should deliver the eulogy, what they should say and the wish for a performance by my favourite gospel artist. With a blank look she stood up and excused herself.

Later she explained that in rural Transkei, where she grew up, they were taught words have power.

In Xhosa culture, and possibly in other cultures, there’s a belief: “Umlomo uyadala” – what you say can manifest. And this explains why there is a great sense of disapproval because talking about it is like inviting it in.

This belief is among the many we hold as black people.

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It has existed throughout many generations, and was passed down over the years.

As I write this, I recognise I have inherited this belief and it has shaped my perception. While I understand it, I find myself trapped between respecting it and dealing with the realities of my anxiety.

It’s like a never-ending cycle and I can’t even talk about it because it is frowned upon. It just plays in my head over and over again.

I suppose avoiding the topic of death and downplaying the anxiety, gives me the sense of control and comfort that I seek – but deep down I know my anxiety and fear is controlling me.

I hate that I am not in control. Even when I try to channel my brain towards something else, something positive, I can’t.

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I know I’m not alone in this struggle, and that gives me some comfort. For now, even in the midst of anxiety, I want to get to a point where I am taking back control.

That’s my mission.