For a long time I thought anxiety was something to defeat. Language like that made every difficult morning feel like a loss, which is a cruel way to live inside your own head.
The turn came when a therapist asked me to stop fighting the feeling and start getting curious about it. Not indulging it. Studying it. When does it arrive? What does it want me to avoid?
Three things helped more than anything else. Sleep, treated as medical rather than optional. Movement every day, even badly. And saying the thing out loud to one person instead of rehearsing it alone for a week.
I still have anxious days. They are days now, not seasons. That is what winning turned out to mean, and it is enough.
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