I can't say what I'm afraid of, and I'm uneasy anyway
Nothing happened. Work is fine, relationships are fine, the check-up was clear.
And something in you stays suspended. Like waiting for a thing that hasn't dropped yet, or a nameless sense that something is about to.
If someone asked what you're worried about, you couldn't answer. That not-being-able-to-answer is sometimes more unsettling than the worry.
What may be going on
Fear comes in two shapes. One has a clear object — heights, failure, a specific scene. The other has no object at all, only a diffuse suspension.
The second gets mistaken for overthinking or scaring yourself, and the body's vigilance is genuine. It may come from something long ago, or the nervous system simply hasn't returned to safety yet.
Not being able to name it doesn't mean the feeling isn't real. It just doesn't have language yet.
Essences that may fit
You don't need all of them. See which description comes closest to how you are now.
Aspen
Unnamed fear, vague unease
Unease towards the unknown and the unnameable. It doesn't accompany you towards an explanation but towards the body feeling that this moment is safe.
Mimulus
Known fear, timidity
If you actually can say what you're afraid of, and that thing makes you tense and want to avoid it, this one comes closer.
Rock Rose
Terror, panic
For sudden panic — racing heart, a blank mind — this one is for that moment.
One small thing you can do now
Put your attention in your feet. The soles against the floor, or the weight in your heels.
Unease tends to pull upward — into the chest, into the head. Returning to the feet is going a little downward.
Stay there for thirty seconds. Not until the unease is gone — just so the body has somewhere else it can be.
When you need to land and come back to the body
Shenmai BL-62 · Outer ankle