Entry 8: Anxiety Fuels My Betrayal

Prompt: When did I realize that self-betrayal doesn’t always look like a big, bold 'yes' — sometimes it’s the small silences, the paused texts, the pretending not to care?”

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Those who know, know. Anxiety is like the best friend you never asked for and the critic over your shoulder that you just can’t shake. My anxiety is sometimes the loud, prominent, and nagging instigator behind self-betrayal.

It’s saying no to things I actually do want, to the places I actually do want to go, or the opportunities I do want to explore. Like light dimming to make space for darkness, the inner Yes is shut down by the firm No of my Anxiety. It’s too scary. Too unknown. Too uncomfortable. 

I’m incapable. 

And so what do I do? 

Claim I never wanted to go anyway. I’m happy where I’m at anyway. The opportunity wasn’t for me anyway.

Betrayal topped with a facade of indifference. 

I can’t pinpoint when the realization hit, but my greatest self-betrayal, besides the limitations I allow my Anxiety to put me in, is pretending I don’t care. Caring can feel like the doorway, the gateway to vulnerability. Once you do care, it’s like you’re opening yourself up to disappointment, heartbreak, and pain, and the thought alone is disappointing.

Like giving all that I have and not receiving a tenth of it? Painful. 

Listening for hours, yet never being heard? Alarming. 

Always being the one to show up, but never being the one worth showing up for? Disheartening.

For the longest time, and I’m still guilty of it, I’d let myself believe I didn’t care. I’d rather lie myself into indifference than drown in a sea of emotions that each feel like sucker punches.

As I get older, I’m trying to sit with the emotions I ran from when I was younger. It’s acknowledging that I don’t feel heard, valued, seen, or appreciated, then sitting with the emotions such as anger, frustration, loss, or sadness. It’s letting me care enough to feel, rather than numb it all or bandage it with pretense. 

I can remember some time around my late teens, when someone commented on a change they noticed in me — I was happier, I laughed more, I was different in a good way. They couldn’t quite name it, but they saw it. I didn’t know it then, but I’d say looking back, I was taking baby steps towards a bright light at the end of the dark tunnel I had been walking through for years. 

One where I didn’t feel like I had the luxury to feel certain things. Life couldn’t rob me of joy and laughter if I didn’t have it. And my Anxiety didn’t let me believe I was worth it anyway. 

Part of the detailed version of the prompt shares: 

It’s about recognizing that healing isn’t just about forgiving others — it’s about forgiving the version of you that thought shrinking was survival.

I don’t know if I’d say I’m forgiving the more toxic version of me, cause I knew she was doing her best with what she knew and what she had at the time. My Girl was trying to survive, and that she did, or I wouldn’t be here, lovingly taking the reins so we can now thrive.

~ K, you’re more aware, Black Bonnet Girl

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Note: Lessons from My 20s is A reflective series by Black Bonnet Girls. Lessons from My 20s is a journal-style series capturing the unfiltered truths, tender moments, and tiny awakenings that come with growing up and growing into yourself.  These entries are for anyone who’s ever felt stuck between who they’ve been and who they’re becoming. For the overthinkers, the late bloomers, the quiet dreamers, and the loud feelers. Through storytelling, reflection, and honesty, I hope this space becomes a soft landing—for me and for you.