Anxiousness: A Blessing or a Curse?

On the edge of performance and the fear of not being enough

Anxiousness. This is one of the most familiar companions in my life. And just like many others navigating high-performing, high-pressure environments, I carry it like a second skin. It bleeds into everything: work, relationships, daily habits. But I keep asking myself: is it a gift or a burden? A blessing, or a curse?

I don’t remember the exact moment my anxiety began. It wasn’t a sharp entry, more like a slow seep: subtle, but constant. Over time, I noticed the patterns: the compulsive need to re-read documents two, three times. The endless reviews of a single Slack message, just to make sure it didn’t sound ‘off.’ The subconscious replaying of a particular message or a flashback from a movie. The instinct to overthink or over analyze every word, every tone, every decision.

And here’s the paradox: while the world often demonizes overthinking, I’ve learned to reframe it. I don’t just overthink, I overdo. I overcommunicate. I evolve through the loops of my own mind, not to be perfect, but to avoid failing. Not to be better than others, but just not to suck. That’s the bar I set. Quietly, internally, but consistently.

Anxiety, in some ways, has been a gift. It's made me somewhat detail-oriented, empathetic, and deliberate. I’ve been told I’m good with words, not just because I write, but because I care about how words land. I worry about how people feel when they read them. I don’t like being misunderstood.

And this has helped me in professional settings. I’ve learned to be honest with my managers about my mental loops. Some get it. The good ones listen. They don’t try to “fix” it, they simply hold space and give feedback with care.

So, yes, anxiety can drive performance. It can be a force that pushes you to polish the rough edges of your work until it shines. It can give you the grit to stretch beyond your comfort zone. In those moments, it feels like a blessing.

The conflict arises when the laptop closes, and the personal begins.

A friend once asked me, “Are you sure you haven’t been attracting avoidantly attached people?” That question landed hard, because it required me to flip the lens. Not who I’m drawn to, but why I’m drawn to them. And more deeply: who am I in relationships?

I’ve spent years reading about attachment styles, but I still can’t fit myself neatly into a box. Some days I feel secure. Most days, I feel hyper-attuned. I notice too much. The silence. The shift in energy.

I don’t question my self-worth, but I overanalyze relationship dynamics like they’re chess moves. Do I crave closeness but brace for rejection? Do I stay loyal to uncertainty, because it mirrors the anxious pattern I know so well?

Sometimes I wonder if I’m just wired to be this way.

There’s no neat answer. I’ve read, reflected, meditated. But I still find myself somewhere in between, caught between secure and anxious, calm and overactive, trusting and doubting. Maybe the point isn’t to arrive at a solution. Maybe it’s to acknowledge the dance.

What I do know is this: I’m learning. Slowly, but consciously. I’m trying to name my triggers. To communicate when I spiral. To admit when I’m not okay without shame. And most of all, to give myself grace.

Because at the end of the day, that’s what this is about. Grace.

So, Is It a Blessing or a Curse?

Maybe it’s both. Maybe anxiousness is just a reflection of caring: too much, sometimes. About the outcome. About the people. About being misunderstood.

Maybe it’s not something to fix, but something to understand.

We are all just a work in progress. And this? This is just Another Take.