ANXIETY

I’ve been picturing it like I’m in a boxing ring. At first, anxiety was this big scary giant, throwing me around and laughing maniacally. I thought I could never win the fight. But as I stood back up and opened my eyes, I realized that he was actually quite small. Like a little nub. His maniacal laugh was squeaky and cartoonish. I kicked and he flew across the ring. He was shocked. He scowled. He lunged toward me, but I flicked him away.

A little while later, even though he was just a nub, I became scared of him again. He grabbed my ankle, and I gasped. Holding my ankle, he swung me around and threw me against the ground. I winced. He laughed and threw punches to keep me down. I shed a tear. But then I remembered that he was just a nub. I stood up slowly and began to tower over him. His face grew afraid. I picked him up with my thumb and index finger and threw him out of the ring. “Wheeeeeeee.”

Sometimes he still catches me off guard and throws a swing at me. Sometimes I get knocked over. But I stand back up quickly now. And he shrinks smaller and smaller. He’s getting pretty tired. But he’s a persistent little guy, I’ll give him that.