Anxiety can be described in many ways, but for me, it has always felt most like a desperate yearning to go home.
As a teenager, I longed to be one of those people that’s “mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time,” like Jack Kerouac describes in his iconic novel "On The Road". But instead of cruising through life’s endless possibilities, I found myself gripped by an unnamed dread, scanning the horizon not for adventure, but for refuge.
