Meanwhile, on what felt like a completely different planet, I was spiraling in anxiety over… nothing. Objectively, my life was fine. More than fine. I had a supportive partner, a flexible job, financial stability, and all the creature comforts this overachieving culture says should make you feel “grateful.” But inside? I was stuck in constant self-doubt, afraid I wasn’t doing enough, being enough, succeeding enough.

When I first found out about the fire, it jolted me back to reality. I thought, What the hell is wrong with me? How could I be torturing myself over imaginary failures while my sister-in-law’s family was living through a literal emergency?

But that initial reaction was quickly replaced by a deeper understanding—and compassion for the version of me who was never taught how to feel safe just being. Who learned to link worth to performance. Who was trained, through hundreds or maybe thousands of subtle and not-so-subtle moments, to believe: If you don’t measure up, you’ll be rejected. Alone. You have to keep proving yourself. Every single day. Forever. Or everything will fall apart.

That wiring doesn’t just turn off because life is technically “good.” You can have everything you’re supposed to want and still feel like you’re one mistake away from losing it all. That doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful or broken. It means your nervous system is doing what it was trained to do—stay on high alert.

And if you grew up having to deal with big emotions on your own—if no one taught you how to feel safe while feeling bad—then overthinking might’ve been your lifeline. Anxiety became your brain’s way of trying to prevent helplessness. It still tries to protect you, even if the threat is long gone.

One thing I know for sure: shaming yourself won’t fix it. Beating yourself up for “making problems out of nothing” only strengthens the same internal story that got you here in the first place.

What will help? Meeting that anxious part of you with understanding. Seeing it not as the enemy, but as a part of you that once kept you safe. You don’t need to push it away—you need to let it know it’s okay to rest now.

You’re allowed to feel anxious, even when everything looks fine.

You’re allowed to stop earning your existence.

And the more you believe that, the quieter the anxiety gets—not because you forced it, but because it finally feels safe to let go.