I’ve started making dates with my worry. Today, for example, at five o’clock in the evening I set an alarm, closed my eyes, and muttered, “I’m worried that I’m terrible at my job,” and went from there. The worry came slowly – it wasn’t used to being called up quite so decisively. I felt slightly annoyed: sure, my anxiety can come in a storm and a fury when I don’t want it; but when I ask for it, it is shy and retiring.
It seems counterproductive. My problem is that I worry. I work myself into a frenzy. I start at The Town of Minor Inconvenience and end up — very, very quickly — at Everything Is Shitsville. Surely the solution isn’t more worry. Surely it is distraction. Logic. Exercise. Happy music. Dance. Something like that.
But here’s what happens when I ignore my worry: it doesn’t go away. Say I dismiss it, shove it into a corner, dance madly around my room, see a friend, walk the dogs, distract myself — it’s still there. It’s festering in the dark, feeding on itself, growing teeth and claws. I get worried again — nope, don’t want to think about that, it’s silly and trivial, shove it into the corner. And the worry monster gets bigger. Hungrier.
Continue reading “Anxiety Dates and The Worry Monster: in which Jess learns not to bottle things up” →