Up until recently I actively avoided Anxiety whenever I saw her coming my way. Unfortunately, she would always see me trying to dodge her, and she would pursue me, shouting, “Hey, wait, I need to talk to you!” I’ve never liked her. The whole of her personality irritates me. She could be considered high strung. Anxiety is a chain-smoker. She looks like a concentration camp survivor from hardly eating, and her hands tremble. Her skin is blotchy from lack of sleep, and the worry lines around her face seem engraved into her skin, even though she is my age.

Moreover, an encounter with Anxiety always leaves me perturbed, restless, and edgy. Sometimes I feel extremely irritated with her. Anxiety has an ability to pop up in many places I don’t expect her. I’m amazed to see her at so many social functions, because I know her presence has a similar effect on other people. Anxiety is always bemoaning some imagined future catastrophe. She worries and reads danger into the slightest mishaps. She has a habit of showing up almost constantly when my life is chaotic. I’ve spent many years listening to her stories and reacting in alarm to them. I’ve tried to get rid of her politely, but when she won’t leave, I seethe with resentment. I’ve even ordered her out a few times, yet she always returns. And as long as I engage her, she feeds off this and won’t leave.

Well, I had an epiphany the other day. Anxiety caught up with me, and rather than dismiss her, or listen politely while swallowing my annoyance, I decided to withhold judgment a moment. I asked myself, “What is Anxiety trying to communicate? What does she want?” As I pondered life from her perspective, I realized that Anxiety sees herself as my friend. And, because she is naturally tense and worried, her perceptions of the world are tainted by this. As my friend, she is simply looking out for me, in the best way she knows how. Even if it means warning me of imagined dangers. I have the power to choose how I listen to her. I can believe her and react in alarm, allowing her tension to inflame me. Or I can receive her kind intent while detaching myself from the content of her words.

So now, when Anxiety finds me, I make myself available for a few moments. Often what she seeks is reassurance. I hold her trembling hands and acknowledge her worries. Once she knows I have heard her, she is satisfied for awhile and flits off to someone else. Anxiety does have her place in this world. I am learning, though, how to keep this relationship in perspective.