The Silent Spiral

They say anxiety is like a whisper that becomes a scream when ignored. I learned this the hard way. What started as manageable stress from personal issues last year slowly transformed into a beast that consumed my health, career, and peace of mind. This is the story of how ignoring my anxiety nearly broke me and how I found my way back to the light.

When Your Body Keeps Score

The numbers told a story I didn't want to read. Twenty kilograms gained. HBA1C at 10.2. Resting heart rate hovering at 110. My body was screaming what my mind refused to acknowledge: I was not okay.

Even the gym, my usual sanctuary, felt like a battlefield I was losing. My markers were portraying a picture of metabolic chaos, making every workout seem pointless. Sleep transformed into a luxury I could no longer afford, not due to a demanding schedule, but because my mind refused to cease its relentless racing. The ceiling became my most familiar companion during those endless nights, while anxiety whispered its favorite lies about everything that could go wrong.

The Career Carousel

After countless sleepless nights, I finally surrendered to therapy. It felt like admitting defeat, but it was actually the beginning of my fight back. Armed with newfound insights, I landed a new job, thinking a fresh start would fix everything. But anxiety doesn't respect new beginnings.

Focus became impossible, and I found myself quitting, adding professional failure to my growing list of worries. Then came a plot twist: I cracked the Amazon interview. Amazon! The victory felt hollow, though. Living alone amplified every anxious thought until I had to return home. Another perceived failure. Another reason for anxiety to feast.

The Dark Room Revelation

Months passed in a blur of forcing positivity while drowning in negativity. I became MIA from gym sessions and therapy appointments. Instead, I found myself coding in a dark, cool room, learning new technologies while my mental health deteriorated. It was there, in that self-imposed isolation, that something shifted.

"There is a god after all," I thought one day, surprising myself with the revelation. I started listening to hymns and bhajans, their ancient melodies somehow cutting through the noise in my head. I started to speak to myself differently: "Even if the monitor indicates 150 BPM, it remains merely a panic attack. You're well. This incident will pass."

Making peace with the past became my new project. I accepted a hard truth: memories don't fade on command, and no amount of regret can change what happened. This entire episode, I told myself, was perhaps a penance for mistakes I'd made. Strangely, framing it this way brought comfort.

Circadian Rhythms and Second Chances

The turning point came from an unexpected source: sunlight. Playing in the sun, something so simple yet so absent from my dark room existence, began resetting my circadian rhythm. My body, confused for so long about when to sleep and when to wake, finally found its compass again.

The improvements came slowly, then suddenly:

  • HBA1C dropped from 10.2 to 6.1
  • Resting heart rate calmed from 110 to 82
  • Reducing my weight one day at a time

These weren't just numbers; they were proof that healing was possible. Each improvement whispered back to anxiety: "You don't own me anymore."

The Road Ahead

I still don't have complete control over my thoughts. Some days, anxiety still visits, like an old acquaintance I'd rather avoid. But now I know its tricks, its patterns, its lies. The difference is that I no longer let it move in rent-free.

Peace has become my priority, even as I search for my next professional chapter. The journey isn't over, I still have ground to cover. But I can finally see light piercing through what felt like an endless night. Things will fall into place, not because I'm forcing them to, but because I'm allowing them to.

A Note to Fellow Travelers

If you're reading this while anxiety whispers its lies to you, please know: ignoring it won't make it go away. It will only make it louder. Seek help. Try therapy. Find your hymns, your sunlight, your peace. The path back isn't linear, and that's okay.

P.S. (The Professional Plot Twist)

And hey, speaking of new chapters: if you happen to know someone who needs a resilient developer who's literally debugged his life, cracked Amazon interview, and learned that the best code is written when you're mentally healthy... I'm your guy!

Remote positions especially welcome, because I've learned that working from a bright, sunny space beats a dark room any day. Startups, I'm looking at you: who better to handle your chaos than someone who's successfully managed their own?

My code compiles, my health metrics are improving, and my sense of humor survived the whole ordeal. That's got to count for something, right?

Drop me a line. I promise I'm much better at handling production issues than I was at initially handling my anxiety. Plus, I bring the unique perspective of someone who knows that sometimes the best solution isn't to push harder, but to step back, breathe, and approach the problem differently.

Here's to ending this year on a high, and to new beginnings that actually stick.

* FINGERS CROSSED *