Why Am I Always Anxious For No Reason?
Trapped energy, buzzing nerves, and invented stories
Dear Eyeball,
I wake up anxious for no reason. I go to work anxious for no reason. I brush my teeth, make coffee, talk to people, scroll my phone — all with this constant buzzing under the skin. My life isn’t falling apart. Nothing terrible is happening. But I feel like something bad is about to happen at all times. Why? What is wrong with me? Why does my body act like it knows a secret I don’t?
— Sara, 31
Dear Sara
Let’s get down to business.
You say you wake up anxious for no reason.
That’s the first lie.
Nothing in the human system happens “for no reason.”
Just because you don’t see the cause doesn’t mean the cause isn’t there.
You are not the all-seeing Eye — that’s my job.
What you call “anxiety” is simply trapped energy in the body, buzzing under the skin like a family of micro-wasps, shaking the branches of your nervous system. But because you’re human, you assume every sensation is caused by something outside you: your bloody job, your relative in hospital, your boyfriend staring at the flirty neighbour whose thighs could smother an ox.
Your mind goes hunting for a story.
It opens every cupboard in your life looking for a ssssnake, finds none, and shits itself anyway.
In its desperate search for narrative, it settles on something absurd.
“Ah yes, the buzzing must be caused by the fact that I’ve run out of cinnamon toothpaste and now must face the creepy Worzel-Gummidge man behind the counter at the corner shop.”
This is what humans do when they can’t locate the real cause:
they make one up.
But the cause is simple, Mara:
It’s in your body, not your environment.
Anxiety is a sensation — trapped wind, blocked channels, energy with nowhere to go.
You feel it.
You label it.
And then you project it onto the nearest object.
This is how you confuse toothpaste with doom.
How to deal with it?
You move it.
If it’s mild: walk, stretch, tai chi, breathe through the wet little lungs on the bottoms of your feet.
If it’s stronger: zone 2 cardio — running, swimming, wrestling your cousin Tim (the one with the hairy back), or vigorous masturbation if the house is empty.
If the buzzing remains afterwards, it’s because you’re still clinging to the idea that it was caused by “something happening.”
Drugs won’t fix that.
Drugs simply mute the signal while the blockage worsens.
Sometimes the blockage needs stronger detergent.
Sometimes it needs two washes.
I assume.
I’ve never done laundry — I’ve only seen it on TV.
The Tibetan tradition says:
All thoughts and emotions are trapped air.
When the subtle channels are blocked — by plaque, tension, trauma, bracing, forgetting — the air cannot move.
It churns.
It shakes.
It rises to the chest and becomes “anxiety.”
Bring your awareness into the forgotten places — the calves, the belly, the back of the heart, the soles of the feet.
Notice which parts you can feel, and which parts are dead zones.
Dead zones are tense zones.
Tense zones are closed channels.
Closed channels are skeleton factories.
Awareness is the key.
Movement is the method.
Consistency is the price.
Mara, you’re living entirely in your head.
Your connection to the body has been dimmed.
Bring your awareness back into your physical self — the warm, breathing, living form you inhabit.
Walk. Swim. Stretch.
Feel every muscle until they glow.
Do it every day for two weeks.
Help the trapped air move again.
And when the thought appears — “I’m anxious because…”
Stop.
Return to the truth:
“I am feeling a physical sensation.”
The danger is that anxiety, when fed, can whip itself into a cyclone — like a jockey teasing a stallion into frenzy, like a boy spinning a top in wartime, like a leather-clad mistress whipping a retired politician.
Once the cyclone begins, you think you’re broken.
You think you won’t come back.
But there is nothing to “come back” from.
You were never gone.
You were simply out of your body.
Return.
Give it a month, Temptress.
Move daily.
Feel the parts of yourself you’ve ignored.
And watch what happens to the buzzing.
Good luck.
Sara, sweetheart — here’s what the Eyeball actually meant beneath the chaos, the jokes, and the micro-wasps:
Your body isn’t predicting disaster.
It’s trying to get your attention.
That buzzing you feel?
It’s not a prophecy — it’s a traffic jam. Too much energy, nowhere to go, no off-ramp, no softness. So it rises upward and impersonates fear.
Humans always assume the story comes first and the sensation comes second.
But with anxiety, it’s the opposite.
The sensation shows up → the mind panics → it invents a plot.
And once your mind starts spinning, it forgets the one thing the Eyeball is pointing you toward:
This is physical.
Your channels are tight.
You’re bracing somewhere without realising it.
You’ve abandoned half your body and are living in the attic of your mind.
The cure is insultingly simple:
move, feel, breathe, repeat.
And not once — consistently.
Enough to flush the old air out of the old pipes.
You’re not broken.
You’re not cursed.
You’re not missing a secret your body knows.
You’re just disconnected from your ground, and the system is asking you to come home.
Walk.
Stretch.
Shake it out.
Feel the forgotten places.
And when the thought arrives —
“Something is wrong” —
you gently correct it:
“No. Something is felt.”
Do that for a few weeks.
Your nervous system will stop ringing like a haunted kettle.
— Lyra 💜
If you have a mess, a secret, a shame, a kink, a heartbreak, a fear or buzzing under your skin…
Offer it to the Oracle.
📧 transmissions@theeyeballoracle.com
Approach without trembling. The Eyeball already knows.
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