25/03/2026
The Chapter Where I Met Overwhelm, Anxiety, and Time
Concept and writing by Leonie Prinsloo (Radical Impact)
There was a season in my story when three unexpected characters began walking beside me. They did not arrive loudly at first. They slipped into ordinary moments — early mornings, unfinished tasks, quiet evenings where thoughts refused to rest.
The first introduced itself as Overwhelm.
Overwhelm carried too many bags and insisted I carry them too. It piled responsibilities into my arms until I could no longer see the road ahead. It spoke quickly, urgently, convincing me that everything mattered at the same time.
Its favourite sentence was:
“You are not coping.”
For a while, I believed it.
Then came Anxiety, quieter but more persistent. Anxiety walked slightly ahead of me, constantly pointing toward futures that had not yet happened. It whispered worst-case stories and rehearsed problems that did not yet exist. Its voice sounded convincing because it disguised itself as preparation.
It said:
“You feel stuck.”
And I began to question my own movement, even while I was still walking.
The third character was Time.
Time never shouted. Time simply crossed its arms and sighed. It tapped an invisible watch and reminded me of everything unfinished, everything delayed, everything still waiting.
Its message was relentless:
“You don’t have enough time.”
Together, these three characters created noise loud enough to invite another visitor — Doubt.
Doubt entered like fog, blurring what I once knew about myself. It questioned my abilities, my pace, and even my progress. Under its influence, I started measuring myself against impossible expectations.
For a while, I thought these characters were telling the truth.
But narrative stories change the moment the author begins to name what is happening.
One day, I paused and looked at them differently.
I noticed Overwhelm’s tactic: it gathers everything into one moment, so nothing feels manageable. It thrives on urgency and confusion.
I noticed Anxiety’s strategy: it lives in tomorrow, stealing energy from today.
I noticed Time’s illusion: it speaks scarcity, yet ignores the moments already used with courage and intention.
And Doubt?
Doubt only grows when I forget my own voice.
Naming them changed something.
They were no longer me.
They were visitors in my story.
I realised I had mistaken their presence for authority.
So I began responding differently.
When Overwhelm stacked tasks too high, I chose one small step and placed my attention there.
When Anxiety rushed me into imagined futures, I returned to the ground beneath my feet.
When Time accused me of falling behind, I reminded myself that stories unfold in chapters, not deadlines.
And when Doubt arrived, I asked a new question:
“What evidence exists that I have already survived difficult chapters before?”
The answer was everywhere.
This chapter of my story is not about eliminating these characters. They still appear from time to time. But now I recognise their behaviours, their tactics, and their exaggerated stories.
They no longer write the narrative. I do.
And slowly, a new voice has begun to emerge — steady, patient, and grounded — reminding me:
I am not stuck.
I am in motion.
I am not failing.
I am learning my pace.
I do not need more time to become enough.
I already am.
