How would you feel,’ said the therapist at our first meeting, ‘if all that anxiety you have on a daily basis completely vanished?’ What followed was about four minutes of awkward silence as she patiently waited and I searched my inner self (it’s what you do at therapy, right?) for the answer. And there it was; lonely, incomplete and no longer like me. Which was strange, because getting rid of the anxiety was why I was paying for the therapist in the first place.
Here’s the thing; I’ve known worry my entire life. For as long as I can remember, she’s been part of me. First thing in the morning she’ll give me a nudge to suggest that the reason my cat hasn’t woken thought about what being totally free of it would mean.
