When Your Mind Turns Against You: Anxiety, Art, and Finding a Way Through

When Your Mind Turns Against You: Anxiety, Art, and Finding a Way Through

Trigger Warning:

This post contains honest reflections on anxiety, including descriptions of physical symptoms, fear, and emotional distress. Please read with care if these topics feel close to home.

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Introduction

I wasn’t sure whether to share this.

It’s raw. It’s uncomfortable. And if I’m honest, it feels quite exposing to put something like this out into the world.

But anxiety thrives in silence.

And the more I’ve spoken about creativity, healing, and the power of art, the more I’ve realised something important—people don’t just connect with the finished pieces… they connect with the truth behind them.

So this is mine.

This is what anxiety feels like for me. Not the tidy version. Not the “I’ve got it all figured out” version.

The real version.

And also… the one thing that’s helped me find my way through it.

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Anxiety and Me

Sometimes it feels like I’m drowning.

Sometimes it feels like I’m on a rollercoaster I never agreed to get on.

Sometimes it feels like I’m trapped under a ten-ton lorry—pinned, breathless, unable to move.

Every time, it’s paralysing.

Sad. Scary. Consuming.

And I don’t mean that lightly—sometimes it is literally paralysing.

There are moments where I can’t even move from one room to another. I’m frozen, stuck, held in place by fear.

Fear of what?

I don’t even know.

That’s one of the hardest parts to explain. There isn’t always a reason. There isn’t always a trigger. It’s just there—loud, overwhelming, and impossible to ignore.

Then there’s the sadness that sometimes comes with it.

A sadness that doesn’t make sense.

I’ll sit there feeling low, heavy, emotional… but I can’t pinpoint why. And because I can’t understand it, my mind starts searching for something—anything—to justify it. So I begin thinking of sad things, almost to “earn” the feeling.

And of course, that just makes it worse.

So now I’m not just anxious—I’m deeply sad too.

Where is the sense in that?

The fear itself… it’s not just in my head.

It’s physical.

It’s a pressure in my chest.

A tightness in my lungs.

A burning, gnawing discomfort that feels like chronic heartburn mixed with something heavier… something immovable.

Like being crushed.

Like being trapped under something I can’t shift, no matter how hard I try.

Sometimes I can rein it in.

Sometimes I can breathe through it, talk myself down, find a way back.

And sometimes… I can’t.

Sometimes it takes over completely, and in those moments, the scariest part is the feeling of losing control—of my thoughts, my body, even myself.

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Where Art Comes In

And then there’s the part that’s changed everything for me.

Art.

Creativity.

Painting.

Because somewhere along the way, I started to notice something…

The moments I feel anxiety building—those are the moments I need to create the most.

Not when everything feels calm and easy.

Not when life is ticking along nicely.

But right there, in the middle of the chaos.

When my chest is tight.

When my thoughts are spiralling.

When I feel like I’m about to be swallowed whole.

That’s when I pick up a brush.

And it doesn’t magically make everything disappear—but something shifts.

It’s like I’m taking all of that noise, all of that fear, all of that heaviness… and giving it somewhere to go.

Instead of it staying trapped inside me, it starts to move.

Onto the canvas.

Into the colour.

Through the layers, the texture, the mess.

It’s not about creating something perfect.

It’s about creating something.

Because in that moment, I’m not stuck anymore.

I’m not paralysed.

I’m doing.

I truly believe it’s like rewiring something in my brain—taking a moment that could spiral into something darker and turning it into something expressive, something tangible, something… lighter.

A release.

A shift.

A tiny bit of control, given back.

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Why I Talk About This So Much

This is why I go on about creativity the way I do.

Not because it’s a nice hobby.

Not because it looks pretty on a canvas.

But because it helps.

Massively.

It’s been one of the most powerful tools I’ve found in navigating something that, at times, feels completely uncontrollable.

And I know I won’t be the only one who feels like this.

If you’ve ever felt that weight…

That confusion…

That fear that doesn’t quite make sense…

You’re not alone in it.

And if everything feels too much—too heavy, too loud—

Try creating.

Not for anyone else.

Not for perfection.

Just for you.

Because sometimes, the way through it…

isn’t to fight it.

It’s to move it.