Anxiety is a horrible housemate. It rummages constantly through my cupboards and refrigerator, eating up all my sustenance. It nags and irritates me, leaving me preoccupied and likely to snap at my children. It leaves its things strewn everywhere, and never picks up after itself. It carries a dull fog with it wherever it goes, which builds up and makes me unable to see the blessings that surround me.
Enough is enough! I have shown it the door. I know it will try to sneak back, but I will be resolute. I will sing songs of praise (Granny taught me that trick) because it hates that.
Separations are hard, but it will be a good thing for both of us. I will be able to be more present for my family. And it can move to Hollywood and embark on a lucrative screenwriting career.