Anxiety is like a long, dark tunnel. You can maybe, if you squint just right, see a dim light at the far end. But as you move towards it, it flickers and dims as you encounter a turn in the tunnel. You begin to doubt that there was a light. That what you saw was just a figment of your imagination.

You do, eventually, reach some light. Only to find another tunnel. And it’s just as dark. And twisty.

The tunnel is cold, damp, and dark. Very, very dark. Sometimes, you can see that light flicker. Sometimes, you can almost hear voices. They call to you, some faintly, some a bit clearer, it’s an almost comforting sound. There are louder voices too. What you hear from them is far from comforting, and they seem to suck what light and air are in the tunnel out.

You might find a small light you can carry with you. If you’re lucky. Having this light can make the comforting voices clearer and the loud ones seem quieter.

Now the tunnel doesn’t seem as dark, but finding your way out still involves dark spots that need getting through.

Slowly, if you keep working at it, the tunnel becomes warmer, not as dark or as cold. There are still dark patches, but the comforting voices are also there. Your light seems brighter.

As the light gets brighter, you start seeing things, people, that you couldn’t see in the dark. Slowly, you reach out to those things. Hoping they help keep you out of the dark patches as you come back to the light.