Dear Anxiety,

As much as I hate having you, you are a part of who I am. You make simple everyday tasks hard to do. Sometimes I wake up in the morning and don’t have the energy to get out of bed. Other days I wake up effortlessly because my morning has already started with you accelerating my heart rate with the anticipations of everything that could go wrong that day.

Sometimes you’re a motivator. You help me get the drive I need to study for that test or do the assignment with worry about the repercussions. You help me practice my speech until it’s perfect; nitpicking over every line making sure my wording is fluid. You help me wake up on time, sometimes even before my alarm, because you’re just so excited for the day to start.

Sometimes you make me cry. I could be smiling one moment and then in a flash I feel dull and sad. You leave me without explanation as to why there are silent tears running down my face. You leave me feeling sensitive but confused as to why I feel this way.

Sometimes you give me butterflies. You make my palms sweaty with the jitters from excitement about a date. Or even waiting for a package, you give me an adrenaline rush as soon as I hear the knock on the door.

Sometimes you’re normal. When you’re actually being rational about a situation, you act like everyone else. I get asked a question on spot; you make my heart skip a beat. I have a huge test or presentation; you erase my thoughts for a split second. You act normal, Anxiety. You act as you should, only appearing when it is necessary.

I hate when you overreact. When I have to make a phone call you make me practice my words a million times and even write them down, no matter who I’m calling. I hate when I walk by a group of people and you tell me they’re talking about me, when they’re obviously not. You don’t like when I go to unfamiliar places, you always tell me to turn around and go somewhere familiar, or if I insist, at least bring a friend.

But most of all, I hate when you make me limit myself to the familiar and safe. My instinct is to adventure, but your voice says to cower.

You are a part of everyone, but for some reason you love me just a little more than others. While you do have your moments, we need to learn to compromise. Sometimes you need to stay at home, let me have my own adventures. If you come along on everything I do, I’ll never get to experience it as myself. I’ll never be able to go as just me; it will always be me plus you.

Sometimes you are my friend, and that’s nice to have. You’re my personal motivator at times. Those are the times when I need you. But most times, it’s better if you were just a character in my story.