Dear Anxiety,

What do you want? You have a place in my life, but must you drop in so often? And unannounced at that! You are not needed here. I am blessed with loving and kind children. So what if my house isn’t the neatest? So what if I don’t prepare 6-course meals? I’m not trying to be Martha Stewart. I just want to get through one day without you. While I love the way you get hugged away, it makes me feel helpless and hopeless that I can’t keep you at bay on my own. So do me a solid–Fuck off. Right off.

Anxiety has plagued me for years. Being raised to believe therapy was only for white/rich families, I was hesitant to retread that ground. Therapy had failed once. Why would I try it again? Writing has always been therapeutic, so I found an empty notebook and began writing.

The letters I found myself writing were to my emotions. I asked them what they wanted from me. After years of not understanding myself and how I respond in certain situations, I began to recognize the patterns. I noticed the moments when I was triggered, how often I was annoyed do to lack of sustenance, or anxious jujitsu because. My first letter—the one to anxiety—sparked a daily journaling practice that kept/keeps me in touch with where I am, how I show up, and how to cope with the emotions coursing through me.