The thing.

I never quite know where to pick up here. I was gone. Now I am back. I got a job that requires a fair amount of writing so it’s been more difficult to write in my own time. Also, I’ve had some fairly elevated anxiety. Duh, right? Even though I’ve done “everything right.” Even though I’ve taken my medication and rested and gone to counseling and talked about it and prayed about it and blogged about it and on and on. It, somehow, still caught me off guard. And I had a panic attack or five. I had one in my boss’ office (Hi Lindsey!). I had one in an airport. So, what do I do with this? Where do I go? I’ve had a hard time moving on. I got so mad. So mad that this thing has a foothold.

And it feels like a thing. A tangible, gross, thing. Otherwordly, almost.

I don’t have a good moral for this story. Except that anxiety is mean and tough and sometimes it wins the battle, but it never wins the war.

The war is won. Even in my anxiety, my soul can rest in that.