Do you hear that? What’s that buzzing that I hear coming from the other room? It’s a radio, turned up high enough to hear, but too low to be able to make out what song it is.

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That’s what a day with mild anxiety is like. It’s there, the buzzing, but you can never really make out what the song is. You want to turn it off, but you can’t. It’s in another room that you can’t access.

You go through your day, hearing it on and off. Every time someone says something that irritates you, or you do something wrong, the volume goes up. Sometimes it gets so loud that you can’t concentrate, so much so that you want to scream back at the radio: “Shut the f#$* up!

If you are fortunate, you have learned to stop to remind yourself that it’s just a radio, and the volume goes down. But you still can’t turn it off.

No one else can hear it. They give you funny looks because it seems like you are getting irritated for no reason. Or, they say, “can’t you just switch it off?” Gee, well, hell, why didn’t I think of that?

If you could, you’d go crawl back to bed and shove a pillow on top of your head to block out the noise. But it will be there still. It will always be there, and you know it. In fact, it may even get louder if you give up.

So you go about your day, trying as you can to go through life, blocking out the noise when you can, or making it part of your soundtrack when you are at your creative best. Sometimes you succeed, sometimes you fail horribly. But the radio, it’s always there.






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