When Your Life Looks Like a Patagonia Ad (But You Feel Like Garbage Inside)

My husband proposed to me in Tomahawk Basin.

If you're from the area you probably know it, but for those not so lucky—picture big bouldery scree, vast snowfields, shivering aspens giving way to fragrant conifers.

In the picture we took immediately afterwards, I have a huge grin on my face, and there are towering snow-capped peaks in the background. I'm even wearing a felt wide-brimmed hat, very Colorado circa 2015.

The face of someone who was grouchy the whole hike up

But guess what? That whole morning I'd been miserable and grouchy. I remember feeling anxious and in my head the whole drive up La Plata Canyon, and I was dragging my feet like a kid on the way to school the entire hike up. When my now-husband dropped to one knee, I said, and I kid you not, "what the f**k are you doing?"

You've been there—on the summit, running the rapid, skiing the line. You have a stunning photo of you looking annoyingly good in the outdoors, ready to post to your Instagram as soon as you're back in cell service. But you know the secret no one else does. Your life looks really shiny, but you feel miserable and anxious.

There's a term for this: high-functioning anxiety. It's when you look like you have it all together, but you're exhausted—overthinking, overdoing, feeling like your self-worth is at the bottom of Lake Nighthorse. You keep achieving and showing up, all the while not sure how you're still getting out of bed in the morning.

If this sounds eerily like last Tuesday, you might be experiencing high-functioning anxiety. 

Lookin' good. Feeling like trash. 

What does high-functioning anxiety look like?

The annoying therapist-y answer, of course, is “it depends on the person.” But it tends to look something like this: 

• You rehearse conversations in your head before having them, or endlessly replay social interactions, looking for any cracks in your polished exterior.
  
  
• You say yes when you'd rather say no, then feel resentful and exhausted.
  
  
• You're the "capable one" in your friend group or family, and people automatically assume you're okay. You listen to their problems patiently, while on the inside you're screaming.
  
  
• You can't just rest, believing you have to earn it first.

Sound relatable? If so, I bet you can add a few examples of your own to the list. 

Wait, this is a problem?!

When you have high-functioning anxiety, it can be hard to take your own experience seriously. You're used to compartmentalizing, so it's easy to push away feelings of anxiety and unhappiness. I live in paradise, you tell yourself. I should be grateful. This can be particularly acute in mountain towns like Durango (or Telluride, or Salida—take your pick.) Everyone looks like they're thriving, and you start to wonder if something is wrong with you because you feel like you aren't.

High-functioning anxiety is also a tricky trap because it works. The anxiety keeps you moving, keeps you achieving, and earns you praise at work, in your hobbies, and in your relationships. It can be frightening to imagine life without it. Your mind probably panics: But how will I get anything done?

In last month's post, I wrote about the masks we wear and where they come from. High-functioning anxiety is a type of mask—one that probably developed to protect you when you were young. It can be downright terrifying to think about changing something that has kept you safe for so long. 

The cost of high-functioning anxiety

High-functioning anxiety is, at its core, a type of avoidance, and all avoidance has a cost. For you, the cost might be a deep exhaustion that even eight hours of sleep doesn’t begin to touch. 

Or, it costs you authenticity—the gap between who you appear to be and who you are keeps widening. You start to feel disconnected from yourself, and the people closest to you don't really know you, because you've never let them. 

You’re not actually in the moments that matter, whether that’s the summit, the rapid, or the proposal in a mountain basin. Your mind is already somewhere else, managing, planning, performing.

Holding it all together is exhausting

The gap between who you appear to be and who you actually are? It doesn't have to keep widening.

You don't have to keep white-knuckling it

I've learned a lot since that moment in Tomahawk Basin. I still live in a place that looks like a Patagonia ad, but I've gotten better at actually being here, not just looking the part. 

You don't have to keep white-knuckling your way through a life that only appears great from the outside. Part of you already knows that muscling through isn't sustainable. Another part of you probably feels afraid of how your life might look without high-functioning anxiety running the show. The point isn't to stop being capable or ambitious. Instead, the aim is to start aligning how you feel inside with how good your life looks on the outside. 

If this sounds familiar, I'd love to talk. I work with women in Durango and across Colorado who are ready to close that gap. Reach out to schedule a free consultation—your internal world deserves just as much attention as everything else you're so good at taking care of.