We Need To Talk: New Relationship Anxiety

I have anxiety.

Just in case you somehow missed that over the last however long you’ve been following me, I just wanted to remind you.

When I’m not dating, the anxiety sort of naturally disperses itself amongst every area of my life: work, friends, family, the crippling self-doubt about not being a good enough mom to Cece (yes, I have dog mom guilt. Anyone else?). But when I AM dating, the anxiety does a sudden equilibrium shift and decides to focus 80% on that and 20% on everything else that was previously keeping me up at night.

And this shouldn’t come as a surprise. My natural inclination toward worry and upset paired with a shitty, disappointing dating history = heightened anxiety bursting through my brain door like Kramer as soon as I start dating someone, ready to make a cognitive mess of everything.

My new relationship anxiety (which has been happening since my very first relationship as an 8-year-old at a Jewish summer camp in New Jersey) has oft driven me to google “new relationship anxiety” and pour over no-name articles to ensure I’m not in this alone. And I’ve honestly found some good ones (not any I can remember nor bookmarked, but they definitely helped in the moment). However, I needed more. I wanted more. I knew there was no way in hell I was the only one who dealt with the sensation of being insanely happy and paralyzed with fear simultaneously, so I decided it was time we talk about it.

It’s all sunshine, BUTTERFLIES, and anxiety attacks

I have a theory. And that theory is that, when you’re younger (like much younger. In your teens, even), your naiveté and immaturity are your two biggest protectants against the ill will of the world. Granted, the world has become a much much much scarier place since I was a teenager, but for the sake of this post, I’ll ask you to transport your imagination back to the early 2000s where low rise jeans and glitter eyeshadow were your biggest concerns day to day. When you’re a teenager and you’re in a “relationship” (quotes necessary because COME ON), the only true anxieties you suffer is how to make time go faster so you can see them again sooner or whether or not you’ll get the same off-campus lunch hour that semester. You don’t sit around and worry if you said the wrong thing, acted the wrong way, whether or not they’re swiping right on other girls, if you share the same morals, values, or political stance. You don’t wonder how their 401k is stacking up, if you’re exclusive, or how many kids they want. You decide you’re together, and you’re together. It’s that simple. You may fight and breakup every other week, but it’s all part of the fun, right?

Can’t say the same about dating as an adult. If you’re like me and have truly dated around, you may have some grasp on the atrocity that dating has become. Meeting someone feels next to impossible; there are too many apps, options, and proud homebodies to sift through, which exhausts you before you’ve even really begun. The quality of daters has dropped dramatically thanks in (heavy) part to the app culture glorifying the ghosters and fuckbois. So when you do find someone—a quality someone—it’s very hard to trust it.

Like, really hard.

Like… impossible almost.

Because it feels like every time you’ve convinced yourself to trust something and allow yourself to be excited about it, you get fucked (in a bad way). So you start to expect the worst from everyone and everything. The you who used to throw on scuba gear and deep dive headfirst into a new fling is suddenly sitting on the ship deck in one of those long-sleeve, sun guard bathing suits, waving everyone off with a forced half-laugh “I’m fine right here! Have fun!” as you battle sea sickness. You don’t wanna be that person, but life has hardened you and this is how you approach things now. As much as you WANT to be excited at the start of something promising, it’s really fucking hard. Even when things are perfect. Even when things are great. Even when it’s so natural, when it’s so consistent, when “defining the relationship” isn’t painful at all—you just decide you’re together and you’re together.

Even when he’s given you absolutely zero cause to distrust what you two have going, IT’S REALLY. FUCKING. HARD.

Because, if you’re anything like me, you’re used to things failing. You’re used to red flags flapping violently in the wind, so even when they aren’t there, you’re looking hard for them. You’re used to it sort of naturally fizzling out after a few months. You’re used to being on a high, followed by too many lows to count. You’re used to spending your time worrying if you said something wrong, did something wrong, if you’re too much or not enough, if he really meant it when he said this or asked that, if he’s really gonna call or text, if it’s all gonna go away tomorrow. Because so far, you always did, you always are, he never did, and it always does.

I DON’T HAVE THE ANSWER BUT I DO HAVE SOME INSIGHTS

In truth, I’m not here to provide a solution for this new relationship anxiety. I’m here to admit I’ve been dealing with it myself the past few months but in a way that’s challenged me to actually deal with it. To recognize it and start working through what’s caused it all these years so I can better understand myself and why I am the way I am and think the way I think. To put it in layman’s terms, “Delicate” has been on loop in my brain for the past few months.

Is it cool that I said all that?
Is it chill that you're in my head?
'Cause I know that it's delicate
Is it cool that I said all that
Is it too soon to do this yet?
'Cause I know that it's delicate
Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it?

New relationships are fragile. They’re precious. They must be handled with extreme care, or at least this is what I’ve always told myself. No toe can go out of line. No words can be jumbled. No plans can go wrong. No tiffs can happen ever. Because if any of that goes down, it’s fucking Chernobyl. World-ending shit. That’s it. It’s over. Everything was going so well, then life happened and got in the way and the sunshine and butterflies have been clouded and you’ll never get them back and it’s time to end it.

I come by these emotions honestly a) because I have general anxiety as it is, and b) it’s how every other dating situation I’ve been in has played out (for the most part). But instead of realizing that only means I wasn’t meant to be with any of those other guys and it had nothing to do with me as a person, I go into full panic mode.

I knew this was gonna happen.

He’s over it.

He doesn’t like me anymore.

I’ll never hear from him again.

I shouldn’t have said that one thing.

I’m not cut out for this.

I’m better off alone.

I hate myself.

This is what I do. Like I said: world-ending shit. It’s immediately the absolute worst outcome, nothing in-between. And it’s all MY fault, of course (trust me, I know the fact that I immediately turn against myself is a whole other can of worms to dissect one day, but we’re keeping on the relationship anxiety topic for today). This is what happens, what my brain does. It’s terrible. Really, I hate it. But I’m working on it, and I’m doing that by being myself.

I know — such a novel concept. Being me. But SO MANY OF US FIGHT THIS, ESPECIALLY IN NEW RELATIONSHIPS. For so long, I’ve tried to be a cooler, chiller, calmer version of Emma and it got me nowhere. I’ve lied to myself and who I was dating about my anxieties and emotions, trying to play the role of the “cool” girlfriend as to not scare them off. I’ve shut down and gone quiet when I’ve been upset as to not draw more attention to it or ask for too much instead of verbalizing why I’m upset. And it took me until the last few months to realize all this only does more harm than good. Stifling emotions in a new relationship is lose-lose for all parties involved. So I’ve been the most straightforward and open about my anxieties that I’ve ever been in this new relationship and so far, it’s working in my favor.

Some things I’ve told my partner:

When I don’t hear from you, I create stories in my head and spiral.

I feel extremely vulnerable.

I need a lot of attention (A LOT).

I’m very emotional.

I feel anxious AF.

Conflict in relationships unhinges me.

I’m not used to a healthy relationship where you tiff and get over it and life goes on. I immediately assume it’s the end and that everything is ruined.

All of it has been met with the kind of understanding I didn’t know I would ever experience. And that’s not to say it won’t all fall apart tomorrow. I don’t know that. No one does. I always thought when I met the right person for me, my anxiety would magically disappear. That suddenly, after suffering from it for 32 years, I would wake up one day and be cured by this one person. But I’ve finally realized how unreasonable that line of thinking is, and that the most realistic “cure” for new relationship anxiety is talking about it. With your partner. Openly and often.

And, if nothing else, please remember this quote when you’re doubting anything you’ve said or done and convincing yourself you’ve ruined it all:

If it’s meant to be yours, nothing you do or say will spoil it.

‘Cause that’s the mother fucking truth.

xox,