My anxiety exists in peaks inside my head.
Jagged crests of mountaintops stabbing into my sky.
Now, before you think I’ve gone all dramatist on you again, there is a point to my hyperbole. More precisely there is a hope to it.
While these peaks of fevered worry still live within me, thanks to meds and doctors and a family simply too patient to be true, I have learned to balance on these rocky tops.
Imagine me in a pup tent pitched on a 5’x5’ piece of plywood teetering in the maddening sky. And as long as I don’t move or look down, I’m good.
And there is my hope.
Bottom line: Hope is often found in the most absurd places. Keep looking.