Anxiety got hold of me somehow at a young age, and after that I was her bitch.
I’ve never been a good little victim though, just like in my first marriage I refused to cower and always fought back (not being perceived as a victim has both advantages and disadvantages), and I seldom let Anxiety make my decisions.
I’ve done things many people would be nervous of doing; caving, abseiling, performing on stage, but also, made phonecalls, rode buses, and spoken to neighbours (Anxiety kicking along sullenly, refusing to give her bitch any freedom).
I finally dumped Anxiety, but like any good abusive relationship, the breakup was messy and kind of dragged on a bit. Still, I’m in recovery now, or you might say remission, but living without the strife has had an unexpected consequence.
It used to be my background colour was Anxious, but now when something is coloured anxious it stands out; it’s easier to veer away, and I can feel myself beginning to set, like clay, into a comfortable routine, in quiet water where nothing rocks my boat.
But I’m nothing if not a bad little victim, so I doubt I’ll fall to the Setting, any more than I fell to fear or fighting. So I’ll wager on Me, getting my gloves on to box another day.