Anxiety,
I won’t bother to start this letter with “Dear” because I don’t value you. I guess you’re better than depression because you give me energy to do things, but other than that, you just make me incredibly uncomfortable all the time.
I’m angry at you because you scare me. But the things that I’m scared about are not real. They’re phantom fears, the fear of something bad happening to me, the fear of getting deathly ill, the fear of something scary happening to my kids. And it’s all because of you, Anxiety.
I want to tell you something. I’ll try to be as diplomatic about it as I can. Here goes, can you please go away? Pack your suitcase with your belongings, your toiletries (if you have any) and get out of my brain.
Only come back to visit me if something exciting is happening, something good.
I’m tired of my heart racing all the time for no reason. I’m emotionally exhausted, and I’m telling you nicely to go somewhere else.
You’re bothering me.
Thank you. I hope you listen.