I'm 17F, and i feel helpless.

Apologies for the long post.

I was diagnosed with clinical anxiety back in 2nd grade, and I still live with it. I’ve learned how to manage it over the years with the help of therapy. I went once in 2nd grade and again in 10th. On the surface, I function well. I’m extremely good at masking, to the point where most people don’t even believe me when I tell them I have anxiety. Apart from my parents, no one really notices when I’m struggling, and even then, they don’t always realise when I’m having a hard time because I don’t say anything.

The idea of me having anxiety feels like a contradiction to people. I’ve always been labelled an “overachiever,” a “perfectionist,” and “ambitious.” I’m constantly juggling extracurriculars, competitions, hobbies, leadership roles alongside maintaining my grades. Whether I personally identify with those labels or not is different, but that’s how I’m perceived.

My therapist once told me that I cope with anxiety by throwing myself into more work so I don’t have to sit with my feelings. She wasn’t wrong. I dread being unproductive. Productivity feels like safety.

Professionally and academically, I’m often the benchmark for my peers. People rely on me. They expect consistency, competence, excellence. And I deliver, always, even at my expense.

But in my personal life, especially at home, I’m a mess. A complete wreck. And it’s not for lack of trying. I’ve genuinely tried tofix myself. I’ve tried systems, routines, motivation, discipline, but this is the one area where I keep failing, and it’s humiliating because I’m supposed to be “good at everything.”

My parents often think I’m careless or callous because of my actions. And when I try to explain that I do care deeply, it just sounds like an excuse because my actions don’t line up with my intentions. I look like a liar even when I’m being honest, so I’ve stopped defending myself.

I’m a hygiene freak. Clean body, clean clothes, no compromise there. But my room? Perpetually messy. I genuinely struggle to keep things organised. I misplace things constantly. I forget where I put stuff even when I try hard to remember.

It’s not that I don’t listen. If my mom tells me something about housework, I acknowledge it. I mean it when I say I’ll do it after finishing what I’m working on. I fully intend to do it. And then it just disappears from my brain almost immediately. This happens so often that it looks like I don’t care about what she says. But I do. I love her.

I forget dates, milestones, important personal things, even when I consciously try to remember, though I remember every last detail of my work and studies. I recently started writing the dates down on a calendar, and it helps a bit, but it still feels like I’m automating things that should come naturally.

If a task is work-related or something I enjoy, I’ll do it immediately. I submit everything on time. If I don’t like the task, I procrastinate till the very last second, but I still get it done right before the deadline because I trust myself. But that pattern is exhausting. The guilt is constant. If I’m not doing something “useful,” it eats at me. I burn out frequently trying to do everything, because slowing down feels like failure.

When I’m focused, I completely lose track of time. I ignore hunger, thirst, the need to use the washroom, people calling my name, etc. It’s like I’m in a bubble I physically can’t step out of. And people don’t understand that. To them, it just looks like I’m ignoring them.

But when it comes to things like cleaning my cupboard or organising my room? I just… can’t. It takes an entire day. And even after I finally do it, usually after getting scolded repeatedly, it all goes back to chaos within two days. I really try for that not to happen. When I tell people this, they just say, “Try harder.” I don’t know how to explain that I already am.

I cannot work or study in silence. Ever. I always have the TV, music, and sometimes even a call with friends on while I work. That helps me focus. But this confuses people even more. If I can function with noise and chaos while working, they wonder why I can’t apply the same energy to my personal life. I don’t know how to explain that the two feel completely different in my head.

I forget to reply to non-work texts, even when I’m sure I’ve already replied. My mind is constantly loud: songs playing, thoughts overlapping, sounds echoing, ideas colliding. Sometimes it keeps me awake. When I’m less stressed, it quiets down. But when I’m overwhelmed, it’s relentless.

Today, my mom found one earring from a pair of my diamond earrings lying near our bed. I got scolded again for being messy and careless. I showed her that all my other earrings, even if my room looks messy, are actually kept in one of my two jewellery boxes. Including the other earring from the pair. So how did one end up there? I genuinely don’t know. I don’t remember taking it out. I don’t remember dropping it. But that doesn’t matter. The conclusion is still that I’m careless.

And maybe I look like it. But I don’t feel like it.

My old therapist once casually mentioned that I might have high-functioning ADD. But she didn’t want to officially diagnose me. Her reasoning was that it might make me “lose my superpowers”- my ability to overachieve, do everything, be exceptional.

She said that if I went through proper screening, something would definitely show up, so it might be better not to. Now I wonder if that was a mistake. Because whatever this is, it’s exhausting.

I didn’t tell her most of what I’ve written here. I didn’t like her. I struggle with vulnerability. And now I can’t even tell my parents that I didn’t open up properly in therapy because they spent so much money on it. I don’t want them to feel like it was wasted because of me.

I feel like I’m living two separate lives. Outside, I’m competent, reliable, driven, someone people admire and depend on. Inside my own home, I look ungrateful, irresponsible, careless. But, I care so deeply that it overwhelms me.

There’s so much happening inside my head all the time that I don’t have the capacity left for things that seem “simple” to others. I try to schedule self-care, cleaning, organising, working out. I make plans. I have the time. And still, it doesn’t happen.

When I’m extremely stressed, I lose my appetite completely. Food repulses me. Other times, I’m suddenly ravenous. My parents think I’m dieting or being health-conscious or wasting food on purpose. I’m not. I would never do that knowingly.

I don’t know why there’s such a deep disjuncture between my professional and personal life. I don’t know why I keep crumbling internally while overworking to maintain an image externally. I don’t know why I can perform so well in the world and still fail so badly. My parents constantly tell me that they’ve never had to worry about me, and I’m so mature and shit, but this carelessness of mine and “lack of intent” is smn that they’ve tried to drill into me since childhood but have still failed.

And all I know is that I’m tired of not understanding myself.