The money between your ears
I have anxiety. Always have, ever since I was a little kid. I was a worrier, the kid who chewed her cuticles and counted ceiling tiles, steps, and made every (obsessive) effort not to step on a crack because I liked my mother. Even though I knew the likelihood of that nursery rhyme coming true was a highly unlikely.
Most of the time, I just lived with the feeling. The anxiety didn’t bother me too much, especially when I was doing the things that I loved and life was running smoothly in a familiar routine. But when something would go awry –.