no control

My therapist is really fond of trying to get me to not worry about things I can’t control. I laugh sometimes because the entire foundation of my anxiety disorder rests on me worrying about things I can’t control. Death, the weather, car accidents — things that are out of my hands is my specialty.

So we talked this week about my anxiety surrounding the election and she trotted out the usual “it’s out of your control” lecture and I stopped her. This isn’t something I can talk myself down from, I told her. This isn’t me worrying about a hurricane that’s not even going to hit us, or getting into an accident on the way to work, or dying in my sleep. I was worrying for the fate of the country. I was taking on the anxiety of everyone. And with good cause! There’s a lot to be anxious about!

I know I have no control over any of this, except to go do my duty and vote. That is the only thing I can control and it is a miniscule thing, something meant to make me feel a power I don’t really wield. I can only sit back and watch it all unfold, soaking up cable news, doomscrolling twitter, eschewing sleep in favor of watching charts and graphs change and evolve.

Is any of this good for me? No, it’s not. I know that and my therapist knows and the fact that I am starting to spiral out of control concerns her. But it does not really concern me. My anxiety has become ambient; it surrounds me like an aura, it is part of everything I touch and see and hear, it has enveloped me. No amount of “talk yourself down” from the peanut gallery is going to affect me now…