Hello, I Have Anxiety, How Are You?

May is Mental Health Awareness month.

It is now May.

So, hello, mental health. I am aware of you.

I am aware of you because my mental health is on the whole plenty good, until it’s not. And when it’s not, it’s like my brain and my heart are Thelma & Louiseing it off a cliff — driving the car right off the edge. Zoom. Crunch. Explode. What happens when this happens is I suffer rather intense anxiety. My anxiety is a many-flavored thing, though usually it focuses on DEATH and HEALTH and IMMEDIATE SOUL-SHITTING PANIC. Like, I’ll be chugging along, and things will be good? And then I’ll think I’m inexplicably dying, or that everything I have is going to go away, or my very existence is a mote of dust in the eye of a God and holy crap what if God blinks and — gaaaaasp, then I can’t breathe, and it feels like I’m trapped, and maybe I have cancer, and maybe my heart is exploding, and what if my son dies, and what if my house burns down, and couldn’t someone in the middle of the night just fucking murder me and my whole family, and –

The cascading emotions run roughshod over me: fear, panic, existential terror. It’s like an amusement park ride: once you’re strapped in, it’s taking you where it wants to go.

I do better with it now than I used to. Growing up was this, every hour. Daily. Nightly. These days my anxiety is a dull roar in the background, a psychological tinnitus that only once in a while chooses to spike into shrill, noxious signal. Mostly, I control it rather than letting it control me. Mostly. And that’s a mental luxury that a lot of people can’t afford for various reasons.

Why am I telling you all this? I talk a little bit about it here and there, but last week I acknowledged it more boldly on Twitter and also noted that generally I don’t care to speak about it, because for me, speaking about it gives it a little power. Depression lies, as they say, and so does anxiety, and one of those lies for me is that it’s an accepted (note I didn’t say “acceptable”) part of who I am — an ally, if you will, the Louise to my Thelma. Anxiety at the time you feel it tends to seem perfectly normal, at least inside my head. It feels like it’s part of the fabric, part of the Tapestry of Chuck, like the panic it creates is totally justifiable, dude, even though it’s the furthest thing from it. It’s a slippery slope, lubricated with fearsweat — THIS PLANE IS TOTALLY GOING TO CRASH, I’LL GO TO THE BATHROOM BUT WAIT WHAT IF THE PLANE STARTS TO CRASH WHILE I’M IN THE BATHROOM AND ALSO THE BATHROOM IS PROBABLY SHELLACKED WITH MRSA AND I’LL CATCH MRSA IN ONE OF THESE HANGNAILS I HAVE ‘CAUSE I CAN’T STOP BITING MY STUPID NAILS SO IF THE PLANE CRASH DOESN’T KILL ME THEN MRSA WILL AND IF THAT DOESN’T KILL ME THEY’LL STILL HAVE TO CUT OFF MY ARMS AND THEN I WON’T BE ABLE TO WRITE ANYMORE AND THAT’S FINE BECAUSE MY CAREER IS PROBABLY ONE OR TWO BOOKS AWAY FROM BEING TOTALLY OVER AND

It sounds absurd, right? But my brain will do those kinds of meth-fueled psychological calisthenics, bounding around like if the Cat in the Hat were covered in a colony of bitey fire ants. And frequently it takes just one step onto the path of anxiety to go shoop down the chute and into cuckoo-town. It’s like how if you pee you “break the seal” and now you gotta pee like, every four minutes. Except here instead of “pee,” it’s “invite a Panic Monster to nestle into your heart where she can start laying eggs.” So, mostly, I don’t talk about it. I don’t even look in its direction because I recognize it to be the lying liar-pantsed liar that it is, and I don’t feel like it’s worth it to let it have the mic. That is not something everyone can manage, mind you, and further, others are strengthened by talking about it. Me, I do better ruminating on all the things that aren’t anxiety, and that seems to serve me okay.

So again, why am I telling you this now?

Because some folks said it would be helpful to know. To know that you can do it — you can have this problem and live with it. You never really conquer it, but you can lock it away, or at least do a country line-dance on its head. I’m not ashamed of what goes on in my head, though I damn sure don’t like it. You shouldn’t be ashamed of it, either. Mental health issues are incredibly common, and I suspect even moreso amongst artists and writers and other creative types. I know that it’s always going to be a part of me even as I can stand here with my Wizard Staff, reminding the Panic Monster that YOU SHALL NOT PASS. I banish it to the dark, then I get to fucking work.

I thought, too, that I’d offer up some of the techniques that I use to manage this. I’m not on medication and I don’t do therapy — which is maybe a bad idea, I don’t know? (I’m also not suggesting you should get by the same way I do. Everybody has their own way forward here, and there is nothing wrong with meds or therapy or whatever gets it done.) I manage okay without those things and have developed coping skills outside that particular prescription.

Here are some of my coping skills:

I run. Running has done a lot for my mental health. It is a thing I am very bad at, as much as you can be bad at such a seemingly simple thing — I mean, I can put one foot in front of the other, but I do so as gracefully as a legless gazelle kicked around an ice-skating rink. Just the same, running feels like control. It is me, the asphalt, the pain, the clarity, the blood pumping. While running, I’m still alone with my thoughts, but there exists the very distinct feeling that I can outrun all the bad thoughts and keep with me all the good ones. At the end, it’s like fleeing the cops in Grand Theft Auto — eventually the bad thoughts lose their way and I’m scot-free, baby.

I avoid news whenever possible. This one’s tough, because sometimes my job is helped by looking at the news. But if I’m feeling panic settle in, I’ll turn away from news because the news is rarely good, and it’s very easy to feel a sense of distinct hopelessness. The news shows a world that is an ever-deepening sinkhole, and rarely does the news report on the things that buoy us as a society. So, for the most part, fuck the news.

I find interesting news instead. Just this morning I saw this: GIANT HIMALAYAN BEES PRODUCE HALLUCINOGENIC HONEY and I’m like, yes, fuck yeah, this is news. No presidential election will ever matter to the universe as much as hallucinogenic bees. Bonus fun: did you know gorillas make up little songs when they eat food? Finding stories like that, that show how amazing the world is? It helps. My life and my death will be insignificant when compared against the wonder of gorilla food-songs and trip-tastic honeybees.

I curate my social media with angry laser-beam eyes. I like to obsessively prune my social media feeds because I consider it my living room — admittedly, a very loud living room — and as soon as someone becomes more noise to be instead of signal, I have to shut them out. It may not even be their fault, but I gotta practice self-care online because if I don’t, looking into the dark heart of social media is like having Sauron’s eye fixed on you. It’s not drinking from a firehouse so much as it is standing underneath Niagara Falls and opening your mouth. So, I unfollow, mute and block on a hair trigger. Sometimes that’s not your fault, it’s just a thing I gotta do.

I write. This seems obvious, and it’s not always the thing that helps everybody, but for me, writing is purgative — the creative act of sucking out venom. I suck it out, then spit it on the page. Not just as anger, but as everything: it’s a way for me to address the the wasp nest that lives inside my skull. All the ideas, all the fears, all the questions. I squirt them onto the page, then fingerpaint with all the bad stuff and see what stories I can tell. I’ve got Invasive coming soon and the protagonist is a futurist who consults with the FBI. Hannah Stander is the daughter of doomsday preppers, and she’s a character who walks the line between hoping to have optimism about the future and trying not to fall into the chasm of fear about the future we’re creating — climate change, antibiotic resistance, artificial intelligence. She’s not me, but she has that part of me. Her struggle gets to be my struggle, a little bit. It helps me deal. Miriam Black from Blackbirds is like this, too — she helped me come to terms with death and the helplessness we experience around it. She was such a vital character to help me dissect fatality.

I write horror. More to the point, I write horror. Most of my books are horror, even though none of my books are labeled as horror. (A curiosity of the industry.)

I meditate. Meditation for me isn’t meditation for you, necessarily — like, I don’t sit in a space and clear my head, but I do go out into nature and take pictures, or I walk, or I read escapist fiction, or I go to the movies. Anywhere to get out of my own head.

I am the Zodiac Killer. Just kidding. Seeing if you were still paying attention. Besides, we all know that Ted Cruz is the Zodiac Killer.

I actively think of good things. Sometimes, my mind needs to be forced — a square peg hammered through a circle hole until its sharp corners are sheared clean off. That means I have to will myself to think of good things. In my life, in your life, in all the world.

I practice empathy. My anxiety is a very selfish liar and it is very solipsistic and would like me to think about ME ME ME and that’s a good way to center panic in your heart. Instead, I look beyond myself at other people and — I mean, in a way empathy is selfish, too, but moving beyond my own margins tends to put my anxiety off-center. Put more plainly, thinking about other people helps you stop thinking about yourself. It robs power from my anxiety.

That’s it, I guess? That’s what I got.

I have anxiety.

And it’s okay.

You’re okay, too.

No shame, no stigma, we are who we are.

Go forth and be awesome. More importantly, go forth and know you’re not alone.

111 comments

  • Bravo! You are not alone! Out here in Anxiety Land the fearsome amusement park is open 24/7 and the rides are always dangerous. I had my first panic attack at age 15 — in my bedroom, on a sunny autumn day. Vivid memory of it, you see. And that was 45 years ago. Thought I was catching the bus to Crazy Town, aka the horror chambers of the state asylum my grandmother always threatened us with. Since then I’ve had a lot of steady years marred by some masterful plunges into near agoraphobia. I fought back with self-help courses, exercise, and a lot of alcohol. Finally, I sucked it up and asked a new family doc for a teeny Xanex prescription to take when I, uh, have to take a plane or give a speech. Right. Only then. She said, wisely, Don’t try to con me, you need an anti-depressant. It took me a while to swallow the first terrifying pill–would I see unicorns? Develop mad urges to run naked through Wal Mart? But when I finally put on my big girl panties and settled into the routine, my anxiety monster went into hibernation. For the first time in my entire adult life I knew how “normal” people reacted to stress. I still fly beneath the radar re: Avoidance Strategies, but the monster only tickles me occasionally with a sharp claw. God bless medication.

    • May 4, 2016 at 5:21 AM // Reply

      If Chuck’s was the Gettysburg Address then yours can be compared to Winston Churchill’s ‘Their Finest Hour’ House of Commons speech. Both truly great.

  • OMG. Unbelievable resonance here. Is there an anxiety secret society handshake? There should be.

    My anxiety attacks have been under control with help from neurofeedback, but I lost some other stuff in doing so – like I used to be so slick at learning languages, but now? I’m all BUH when I look at languages I used to know well… and I still haven’t *killed* the anxiety; it’s just turned into one of those ghosts in the attic that shakes a chain every so often but doesn’t pin me to the ceiling with vomit-spouts anymore. So I’ve been working with EMDR and had some progress, but it’s still rattling up there.

    We all make trade-offs. Thank you for being willing to share yours.

  • CHUCK!!! My anxiety crept up, built up, and then all in one horrible swoop, it finally clobbered me good. I tried fighting the imbalance craziness in my brain. Maintained a positive attitude. But the good stress and bad stress got to me, and SNAP…wanted to curl up in a ball as I felt I was dying. I am on a generic form of Zoloft now. Not a huge dosage mg-wise. Felt bad about having to “medicate” but then, as I talked to people, holey heck, a lot of joe’s and joanne’s experienced the same and on the same medication. I am back on my game now. The world is my oyster…and my wife and kids and my peace o’ mind are happier for it…and me.

  • May 3, 2016 at 2:23 PM // Reply

    Re: the news. My late sweetie dealt with anxiety as well and there came a point where I literally had to forbid her from watching television news. (Like invoke parental controls on the cable TV box to lock out those channels.) My rationale then (and I’ve seen nothing to disprove this) is that the (particularly local TV) news makes money by inducing fear. The more you’re afraid, the more you watch. The more you watch, the more you get afraid. The same way anxious thoughts create a loop in your head, the TV news reinforces the feedback of fear.

    Thanks for sharing. My own battles with mental health don’t seem to hit the badness I’ve heard from others, but I’ve found a medication that smooths off my edges. Like my late sweetie’s father was known to remark about his Prozac prescription, “It doesn’t do anything for me, but when I take it everyone else is less of an asshole.”

  • Thank you for talking about this. Thank you. A lot.

    Do you ever get the feeling that the anxiety is part of what makes you able to create what you create? On the one hand, it’s gotta be just the parasite wanting to stay attached–“I’m good for you, I’m working with you, I AM YOU”–but man, it’s convincing.

  • Your coping skills sounds like a list of things a therapist (especially a cognitive behavioral therapist) might teach to someone suffering from anxiety. I use a lot of the same shit to get by without freaking out all day. I think therapists are good for people who go “that can’t fix the problem” when it’s suggested they stop exacerbating things by staring at Fox news. Unless it’s administered via a Person Of Authority(!!11!!1), good advice just flies right over some people.

  • I may not suffer myself, but I grew up around mental illness and my roommate has serious anxiety. Reading this really helped me to understand them better.

    Also, “go forth and be awesome” is something I want to tell those people in my life every day!

  • The way you described your anxiety reminded me of Lews Therin Telamon in Rand’s head in Wheel of Time series. I was extremely anxious about my decisions lately, and reading this post helped me a lot. Thank you for spilling your guts, thank you for lending me a hand. I am grateful.

  • My anxiety seems to come and go, but when it’s there, it definitely can become a runaway train at its worst. Ewwwwww…

    Thanks for sharing this. Hope you are well!

  • Meth-fueled psychological calisthenics! Exactly! I blessed with a like-mind and was on a flight yesterday thinking my mind would melt from exceeding an obsessive-compulsive thought capacity while even comptemplating the bathroom!! Thanks buddy, this article is awesome.

  • I also have the same problem, and like you, I prefer not to make eye-contact with that monster. The thing is that my anxiety will be under control for long periods of time and then suddenly pop out like the jack-in-the-box from hell.

    Which is even more fun when I wasn’t looking at it before it pounces.

  • I like you’re coping strategies. I also don’t watch the news and whenever I do (by accident) it’s instant depression. It means I live in a bubble most of the time, but I reckon we all do.

  • Thanks, Chuck. Well said, as always, and with the humor and truth and creativity that we sometimes have to have when facing our anxiety. The Thelma and Louise analogy was pretty accurate, though the analogy I use for my anxiety is more Fight Club-like, an argument between Ed Norton and Brad Pitt, with Helena Bonham-Carter cackling in the corner, laughing at it all. Again, thanks for sharing.

  • Thank you. It is helpful to know. I’m always shocked to discover that people don’t know I have an anxiety condition, because I feel like a walking-on-eggshells frazzled mess all the time, like you said, one step from cuckoo-town. And people say, no, you are so together.

    And I say, well, I have to be, right? because the alternative is being – not. As I feel like the world’s biggest fraud, and look at people I admire and think, wow, they are so together.

    Oh…

    You’re a class act. Everything you do lifts up the people around you.

  • My anxiety revolved around low self-esteem, which plagued me starting from childhood. As an adult, I alleviated it with alcohol. That only made things worse! I finally got hold of myself and now suffer from a new condition: ‘I Don’t Give a Shit What Other People Think of Me.’ I’d rather have the latter. It’s truly empowering.

  • May 3, 2016 at 8:49 PM // Reply

    Thank you for describing what I could not! I, too. suffer from anxiety and I don’t take meds because I have bad reactions to them – they amplified my symptoms. I do repetitive activities when it is full blown, I pray, I play video games and I pace. I find crying to be a release of all that pent up adrenalin and it sometimes is like a balloon popping. Once it pops, I am tired but the anxiety is gone. Pretty weird. I also don’t read or watch the news – much. I avoid horror stories of green house gases, earthquakes, ice caps melting and etc. I try to focus on other things. I have great empathy for you since my anxiety is nothing like yours. I will pray for you and pray that God releases “Thelma and Louise” and allows them to drive off into never never land. Be blessed, be calm, be happy.

  • Very salient advice that makes this horrible disorder all the much easier to react to. I mean we need to do something and you expressing this in your blog was cool.

    Thanks!

  • OMFG. It’s as if someone dipped a ladle into my brain and pulled out the goo, then deciphered the hidden messages within it. Never have I seen what I sometimes feel put into such clarity. Thank you.

  • Hello fellow dancers with anxiety, this post just felt so good…and your comments. Just to know we’re not alone. I suffer from panic attacks (out of the blue, esp. when I’m relaxed and don’t see it coming) and am seeing a therapist. With her help I got it more under control, because I DO face anxiety, I even see it as a helper. I named it, his name is Hugo. Hugo will attack and bare his teeth (I envision him like a little nasty troll) whenever I don’t look after myself enough and my unconscious wants to steer me away from being too stressed, too exhausted, too fixated on myself. Then I sense him appearing, and we talk. I honestly talk into a mirror and tell Hugo, this part of me, that I got the message, thank you very much, and I’ll try to be better to myself (by doing many of the things Chuck mentioned! Exercise, nature, focussing on other stuff…) until the cycle of bad thoughts and feels breaks. Facing Hugo, acknowledging him as a helper/warner, helped A LOT! We don’t “fight”, I don’t want him to stay away and shut up forever, because my therapist said Hugo will always be there to warn me, hit me over the head if need be, and I’ll probably never suffer from burn-out that way. He’d intervene, make me LOOK at what I’m doing. So for me, facing anxiety, naming it and talking to it, even negotiating with Hugo, telling him I got his message, and will look after me, helped! I think ignoring or looking away would give him the power to strike harder and more suddenly. That way, I can “hear him in the background” sometimes, when he gets restless and bites his nails, but he won’t lunge at me like he did before. I tell him I appreciate his warnings. I tell him he can stay, but stay back, please, be nicer to me. Maybe this strategy is worth trying for someone else here. Naming him and even giving him a face (I have a little troll-figure I talk to when I feel Hugo getting restless, reassuring him) was my answer.
    THANKS CHUCK for an awesome post and thanks to everyone else for being so honest and open! :-)

  • Do you guys remember a few flash fictions ago when I wrote ‘Armageddon’ as one of my stories?

    Yeah, well, the dragon in it was my real, honest-to-god Dragon who has been with me since I was young. He only got out of control in high school (when my doctors didn’t know I suffered from anxiety and thought the peptic ulcers were stress) and later on when he played tag-team with my PTSD… oh, they’re great pals when they’re in full swing!

    But now, they play cards in the corner (of go-fish and snap) and are pretty much bored with their life because I control them.

    That flash fiction I wrote is what it feels like to me when my anxieties were at their worst… when my world fell apart on a frequent basis… when I thought my world was going to implode on me and my Dragon was going to eat me alive. And yes, he looks exactly like that when he’s pissed with me (very intimidating, right?).

    I still suffer from anxiety – but not as bad as I used to. I just ask myself some questions my Grandma used to to get me on track: ‘Is it going to kill me? Is the world going to end because of this? Is there going to be dire circumstances due to my actions?’ If I say no to all of these questions, good, I’m okay. If I say yes to one of these, well, I sit down and figure it out like an adult – or ask for help from my family.

    Either way, I try to keep my Dragon on a short chain… um… leash… well, you know what I mean. :)

  • I have the opposite problem with empathy. I consider myself an “empath,” so I have to actively get myself OUT of other people’s shoes. Feeling empathy 24/7 causes me anxiety and that tends to be the first thing I have to stifle in order to calm my anxiety.

  • May 4, 2016 at 11:07 AM // Reply

    You nailed this one Mr Wendig. Thank you for sharing. It seems you owe those folks who encouraged you to post this, a drink or two.

  • “I have anxiety.
    And it’s okay.
    You’re okay, too.
    No shame, no stigma, we are who we are.”

    I’ve suffered from panic anxiety for thirty years and have to keep telling myself I’m okay too. Thanks for sharing.

  • May I please thank you for this. I’ve suffered from anxiety for most of my life and everyone’s anxiety is different but you nailed it with your suggestions for dealing with it. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  • Yes, to what you said. Sounds very familiar, but for me it’s a by-product of post-traumatic stress disorder.

    I have the same reaction to the News as you. Taking it a step farther: Have you looked at a connection between books you read/ TV shows you watch and spikes in anxiety?

    I have never read anywhere about that connection, but, for me at least, some books/writing styles and some TV shows contain triggers. I don’t know yet in detail what the triggers are, but anxiety has all but disappeared since I started cutting out shows whenever I noticed a spike in anxiety hours or days after watching it.
    So far, I can watch Agents of Shield, but not Game of Thrones or Jennifer Jones, for example. I hate it when I have to stop watching something I like because it triggers anxiety, but I’d rather miss a new season of GoT than be unable to write because I’m in the throes of anxiety. ;-)

  • Mental Health is a tough and scary thing to talk about when you’re a member of that club – even in May – so respect and kudos to you for opening your heart here, Chuck.
    My ‘thing’ is PTSD (I don’t know why it feels less scary to phrase it that way, but somehow it does) and I totally get it about staying away from bad news in the media – when the Operation Yewtree stuff was all over the place I practically wanted to go dig myself a hole in the middle of nowhere and go live in it. My mother-in-law keeps recommending Game of Thrones to me, but there’s no way I could put myself through that.
    I’ve got better at hiding it as time goes on – which I think you learn to do out of necessity once you have kids. Can’t go having Niagara fallouts when your nine-year-old just wants to talk to you about Star Wars Battlefront all day, after all ;) And, like you say, writing helps. I have a special journal where I pour all my random, irrational rants, and I usually feel better afterwards. It’s hidden where no-one will ever find it, and it will burn with me when I’m gone ;)

  • I get it. So much that I wrote a play about depression, about family dysfunction, no, no, more about writing it until the written words are like vomit sitting in a hot sun…no, no…it’s really about suicide. Stay turned for THE FAMILY TRICK in San Francisco…no, no, well…maybe!

  • May I second the whole news-avoiding thing? At least until a brave channel dares to start broadcasting uplifting and generally cheerful news. Until then, I will just write comedies, cause nobody crashes in them or gets airplane-bathroom-diseases.

    • May 6, 2016 at 3:36 AM // Reply

      Gonna second that second.
      The only thing the news is good for is seeing people who are in worse situations then yourself and using that to remind yourself that your own problems probably aren’t as significant by comparison.

    • I avoid news because over the past several years, the level of trust I have that real journalists are actually reporting it has fallen to negative numbers. Too much snark, far to much agenda pushing, and far too much I-Wanna-Be-A-Celebrity-And-I-Want-To-Be-The-Story. It’s amazing how much calmer you will be if you go news free — the next step in this program is to go Social Media free. That shit is destroying our minds and our society.

  • I didn’t plan to write on this topic, but awareness is the point. Showing my respect by following your example*.

    Part of what makes mental illness such a wretched thing is how individual the experience of it is, how every set of circumstances makes for a unique presentation, and how isolating that can be. But there’s a difference between being on a solitary journey, and being alone.

    (*discussion of the intersection of anxiety and bereavement)

  • I’d like to avoid the news, but my wife is sort of a news junkie. Still, the less I manage to care about it the better I feel. I do vote, but you’ll never know for whom . . .

  • I should have read this the day it posted, but I was on a plane to Florida, where I had an anxiety attack. I don’t travel well, but not for fear of flying. It’s more of EVERYTHING that could go wrong will go wrong. I also had my just-turned-70-years-old mother with me who needed assistance and OMG, what if we get separated (we did on the way back and I freaked out and almost missed my flight)?!

    Thank you for writing this. It is what I deal with daily, and I use some of the same coping skills you do. It helps a great deal.

  • tl;dr: those people on twitter were totally right. I totally relate to everything you’re saying, and I cope in similar ways. And it really helps to know I’m not alone, regardless of what my anxiety tells me. So thank you for this post.

    While we’re sharing about anxiety, I skipped this post last week because- wait for it- anxiety!!!
    I saw anxiety in the title and I just couldn’t do it.
    While I also am not on meds or in therapy, I think I could benefit from them now and again. Unfortunately, a side effect of my liar-faced anxiety is that I can’t properly guage how far out I am. I think I’m in the kiddy pool, but I’ve really got sharks circling beneath the deep waters, ready to drag me down into the depressive depths. I got to swim away this time. (I think? Guage getting easier to read every day.) But I also was out with my friends EVERY day last week. And most days the week before. Why? Because I’m not floundering in the waters of anxiety bay when I’m out and about with them. And every day, I REALLY wanted to be writing, but instead I stared at a blank page. And when I was done hanging out with Blinky the Cursor of Shame, I tried to edit and had to resist the intense urge to erase EVERYTHING.
    That is to say, the most important thing to remember during any part of an anxiety and/or depression cycle is that there is an end. Normalcy- SANITY- is within reach. You just have to find your way back.

  • Thank you for sharing.
    I suffer anxiety and had to quit my ‘day job’ because of it. I delved back into writing. It has helped. A lot.
    It helps to know there are others, like you, who know how it feels. It helps to know you have found a way to cope. Then perhaps I can too.
    It helps to know I am not alone.
    Thank you.

  • Chuck, you do what I do to cope. I went down your list: check, check, check. It all makes a difference. It’s like taking charge of my own sanity. It’s putting focus on positive, creative, constructive and healthy things.
    Stressful and negative situations are pretty much unavoidable. But we can absolutely take active practical steps and choices to bring in more of the good and minimize the bad.
    Stress is just crap becoming e-x-t-r-e-m-e-l-y pronounced in our minds. Screw that. I just want to laugh and see cool stuff. Love your writing, thank you!

Speak Your Mind, Word-Nerds