I hate that word, "emo", or rather the feeling that goes with it, that it's somehow bad to feel. Or to let others see you do it.
But I'm sorry, part of me has bought into it: I try not to talk about my own problems, until they get so bad that what I do write sounds like a fish flopping around in distress. *Groucho Marx voice* "And it's tough getting a fish into dis dress, lemme tell ya!" I need to paint a mustache over my mustache, like he did, and get a cigar. Maybe somebody would pay me to be funny ... Ah, but then it would be work. Not talking and honking a horn might be more fun.
Well, "luckily", my anxiety is fairly generalized; it doesn't seize on something specific and get all worked up. Instead, it just floats around and makes me uncomfortable.
I used to get full-blown panic attacks, tightness in the chest, the works. Once I realized what was happening, though, (and it only took three or four times), I could talk myself out of them, knowing that it was just the anxiety.
As for stressors, we've got the financial, the (ending) marital, the work, and the miscellaneous. Or we could sum them all up as the "feeling helpless". Especially on the subject of tying up the marital finances, I don't really feel like it'll ever be over. Those are the times that the mind starts to tug back towards the old suicide fantasies.
Perhaps I need another way to cope, whadda y'all think? ;-)