I am the depth. I am not the wave

I’m a very simple guy — so simple that sometimes I ask myself, what’s wrong with me? I’ve never wanted to drive an expensive car just to impress others, own a big house to show off, wear designer clothes so people think I’ve made it, or chase a fancy job title to feel better than anyone else.

All I’ve ever wanted in life is peace of mind — a mind that’s quiet, kind to myself, and able to soothe my anxiety when I need it most. And yet, despite how simple that wish sounds, it’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever longed for. I’ve tried medication, mindfulness, and followed every new study that promised insight into easing anxiety. I’ve seen counsellors — many of them truly amazing — but most of the time, the conversation was about managing anxiety.

Then, in the most unexpected moment, someone said something that finally clicked and helped me see my anxiety in a completely different light.

“Step into your feelings. Go with the energy,” she said. “You feel things deeply. You’re a BIG FEELER. That’s a gift — don’t push it away. These feelings are who you are.”

I’ve heard so many times that I’m too much — too sensitive, too emotional. So I began to believe that my big feelings were wrong, inappropriate, something to fix or hide.

For years, I resisted my anxiety. It showed up in the worst possible moments — at work, in meetings, mid-conversation, or whenever I felt overwhelmed. I was terrified of it. I didn’t understand it. Often, it would come out as anger or emotional outbursts. But underneath it all, it was just anxiety. I even gave it a name: The Incredible Hulk.

What I hated the most was when I felt deeply for something or someone, because for me, feelings aren’t just feelings — they’re tsunamis. Our society doesn’t really teach us how to hold that much emotional energy, especially if you’re an introvert. Where do you put it all? Where does it go? Eventually, all that pressure builds — like wine becoming a tornado swirling through your body — and it spills out into the world. It shows up in issues, in pain, in chaos. And people see a mess. But really, what they’re seeing is exactly how you feel inside.

Since I began stepping into my anxiety, it’s still here — I still feel every bit of it. But now, I channel it with grace and strength. I walk into it. I own it. Even right now, as I’m writing this, I can feel that anxiety rising in my chest. But this time, I don’t try to explain it or escape it. I let it be. I let myself feel it. I don’t push it away.

I’ve been practising mindfulness every day for nearly four years. In the beginning, I’d fall asleep within five minutes. But only recently have I started to experience stillness — one breath at a time.

From the outside, I might look fine — calm, collected, even confident. But anxiety still shows up when I least expect it. For years, I was afraid of how people might perceive it. I’ve always felt that most people don’t truly understand how challenging anxiety can be, especially the kind that arrives without warning. So I started minimising interactions, avoiding situations where strong feelings might spill out. It became a way to protect myself.

Even though we talk more openly about mental health and emotional distress these days, that doesn’t mean people truly understand what it’s like to live in anxiety. We have the theories, the medication, the techniques and self-management tools. But in my experience, none of them really get to the depth of it. My feelings are oceans — deep, vast, and unpredictable. Sometimes, they intensify so quickly that no tool can keep up. And when that wave hits, all the strategies in the world can feel like sandcastles in the tide.

So now, when the storm rolls in, I tell myself: Let’s dance with it. Let’s watch the waves. Let’s appreciate the beauty of feeling this much, of carrying this depth inside me.

I am the depth. I am not the wave.