Why the Fuck Is Everyone Suffering From Anxiety?

Remember the 80s and 90s? If you’re reading or listening to this, prolly not. You’re prolly watching some shit on TikTok. We’re talking before your phone became a permanent, glowing appendage fused to your face. A time when the only thing "going viral" was a case of mono you and your homies got from sucking face with that nasty person behind the bleachers.

Looking back, it seems like people were, I don't know, functioning without the constant, gut-churning dread that's become the background track to our lives.

Let's be real, it’s not just you. We’re all losing our goddamn minds. But why? What turned us from a generation raised on Saved by the Bell into a society of panic-scrolling insomniacs?

It’s not just one thing; it’s a whole goddamn cocktail of bullshit.

The Digital Shitstorm We Call "Being Connected"

This is the big asshole in the room. In the 80s and 90s, when you left school or work, you were done. Bullying, social comparison, and gossip still happened. The schoolyard or the office was the primary arena for social pressure, but the drama ended as soon as you hit the door. Now, the shitshow follows you into your bed, your bathroom, and your brain 24 fucking 7.

Thanks to Instagram, we're no longer just comparing ourselves to the neighbors. We're comparing our shitty Tuesday morning to Brittany’s "authentic" spiritual awakening on a beach in Bali, which we all know is bullshit, prolly sponsored by a laxative tea. It’s a relentless, soul-crushing firehose of other people's fabricated perfection, designed to make you feel like a worthless turd. The pressure to perform, to curate your own fake-ass life, is fucking exhausting.

Turn on the news? No, the news turns you on, blasting every war, plague, political dumpster fire, and economic collapse directly into your eyeballs. Our primitive lizard brains were not built to doomscroll every single catastrophe happening on the planet simultaneously. It weaponizes our anxiety, leaving us in a state of permanent, low-grade panic, convinced we’re about to be wiped out by murder hornets or a rogue asteroid at any second.

The Economy Is Fucked, and So Are We

Remember when the deal was: go to school, work hard, buy a house, and not die in poverty? When wealth was promised to “trickle down” if you voted for the right person and kept your nose clean? What a fucking fairy tale that turned out to be. The economic promise that baby boomers took for granted has evaporated, replaced by a steaming pile of uncertainty.

We’re saddled with ass-busting student loan debt for degrees that get us jobs in the "gig economy," which is just a cute way of saying "no rights, no benefits, and no security." You need to sell a kidney and promise your firstborn just to afford a down payment on a “tiny house” a hellacious commute away from your Instacart route. The constant financial stress, the feeling of running on a hamster wheel that's on fire, is a surefire recipe for a nervous breakdown.

We're All So "Connected," Yet So Alone

Here’s a fun paradox. In our hyper-connected world, we're lonelier than ever. Back in the day, people had to, like, talk to each other. In person. Wild, right? They went to bars and asked people to dance. They walked through rain-free air-conditioned malls. They joined bowling leagues, or hiking clubs, or skateboard parks. People built tangible in-person communities that could support them when life went to shit.

Now? We have 5000 fake ass "friends" on Facebook, or 2000 Insta followers, most of whom will ghost your ass when you ask anyone to help move a fucking couch. Who’s gonna bring you orange juice or soup when you have the flu? Fucking nobody, that's who. We traded real, messy human connection for the empty validation of a 'like' from someone we haven’t seen in 15 years.

I actually did the flu experiment a few years ago. Lots of “I’ll pray for you” or “feel better soon,” but only about 20 or so people offered to REALLY help. Those were my REAL friends. Literally took me hours to unfriend 4900 or so douchebag losers.

To be honest, personally, it leaves me feeling hollow and completely on my own with my spiraling thoughts. Am I the only one who feels this way? Doubt it.

The One Good Thing: At Least We Call It Anxiety Now

Okay, here's the one silver lining in this shit-show. We're actually talking about it. In the 80s and 90s, if you had a panic attack, you were just "hysterical" or "needed to toughen up." You buried that shit deep down, let it curdle in your gut, and pretended everything was fine. The only good thing was you could hide somewhere until it passed because no one had FindMy. You could actually be alone for a while.

Now, we have medical language. We can say, "I have the anx," instead of just, "I have a permanent case of the scaries.