Why My Anxiety Doesn’t Allow Me To Casually Date


Do you ever feel that intense, unnerving uncertainty? The fear bubbling up hot in your veins, ready to attack your aorta and explode your chest wide open?

Then, just as the dust settles, depression slithers in to remind your anxiety she isn’t special. That you aren’t special. And you’re probably prescribed something for that, right? A little pill your doctor assures you is helping, but you don’t sleep through the night anymore. And your appetite is gone as your mouth rivals the Sahara. Even after all of that, you still feel like you’re screaming and no one can hear you. We all know there’s no pill or cure that will deem us “normal.” There’s just us and how we choose to live with it.

More importantly, who we choose to live with it.

My anxiety and depression don’t allow me to casually date. And I don’t mean I can’t grab a few drinks with a set of brown eyes who is looking to get lucky. Because I can, but only once or twice. Because I don’t want people in my circle who are only interested in the surface level. I can’t operate on that level for very long. The heat from my core radiates all around me. Every messy, silly, dark part of my soul will shake your hand, along with my new pretty dress and toothy smile.

So don’t tell me you’re only looking for casual after we’ve shared intimate moments unless you never want to see me again.

I need people in my life who are about the “fuck yeah” moments. People who know that there’s nothing casual about connection and relationships. Partners who don’t run when anxiety crashes through the wall, leaving a Kool-Aid Man-sized hole. I need people who wrap me up and remind me that this doesn’t have to control my life, that they’ll do everything they can to drive that shit away from me. People who understand that I just want to be fucking happy, but it’s really hard for me.

There’s nothing casual about that.

If you want to be in my life, you have to be all in. And I will do the same for you. There is nothing special or magical about having one foot in the door and one eye on the clock, wondering when this panic attack is going to subside so we can talk some more about how you played college football at a mediocre school.

I am not here for those moments. Because my anxiety and depression are a small force compared to who I really am. Who I am growing myself to be.

So no, I don’t casually date. I can’t.

And I’m really fucking happy about it.