On the first day of Christmas, my Anxiety gave to me:
Fear that I won’t be able to handle the demands of the season.
But my therapist said:
“What expectations are you putting on yourself, and where did they come from?”
On the second day of Christmas, my Anxiety gave to me:
A tension headache.
But my therapist said:
“Set timers for breaks for deep breathing, water, and a stretch. (And really do it!)”
On the third day of Christmas, my Anxiety gave to me:
Dread about the holiday lunch and what I will say to people.
But my therapist said:
“We can do some role play and uncover any automatic thoughts that aren’t helping.”
On the fourth day of Christmas, my Anxiety gave to me:
Indecision, paralysis and procrastination. I can’t decide on the perfect gifts.
But my therapist said:
“Let’s go for good enough. Can you take the first small, imperfect step?”
On the fifth day of Christmas, my Anxiety gave to me:
FOMO from scrolling on social.
But my therapist said:
“Yep, that’s a tough one. When do you usually scroll and what comes up for you?”
On the sixth day of Christmas, my Anxiety gave to me:
Chronic unease that I am forgetting something I need to do.
But my therapist said:
“Let’s assume you are forgetting something. What would happen then?”
On the seventh day of Christmas, my Anxiety gave to me:
A panic attack.
But my therapist said:
“Those are no fun but won’t harm you, and you can handle it. You are becoming resilient.
On the eighth day of Christmas, my Anxiety gave to me:
Crippling fatigue.
But my therapist said:
“Yes, anxiety is exhausting. We can work on this together and I believe it will help.
On the ninth day of Christmas, my Anxiety gave to me:
Diamond earrings and a puppy.
But my therapist said:
“Ahhh, wishful thinking, but a sense of humor is one of the very best strategies!”
On the tenth day of Christmas, my Anxiety gave to me:
Worries, more worries, and then 1,000 angles to those worries to also worry about.
But my therapist said:
“Worrying is often a straining for control. I wonder if it’s really giving you control?”
On the eleventh day of Christmas, my Anxiety gave to me:
Nervousness that I’ll have sweaty palms at the cocktail party.
But my therapist said:
“Hmmm, can you try to make them extra sweaty?” (This confused me but helped!)
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my Anxiety gave to me:
A break. Or else it was still there, and I just didn’t notice it.
And my therapist said:
“Oh, it was still there. Your Anxiety is a part of you. It just wants to be accepted and welcomed along for the ride. When you do that, it still chills in the backseat, but it lets YOU drive.”
And I said:
“Merry Christmas, Anxiety. I have some plans for us in the new year. Buckle up!”
