Every year we invite Elijah to our Passover seders, setting out a glass of wine to welcome him upon arrival. The guy never shows up. Rude. But you know who shows up uninvited all the time? Anxiety. So rude. 

It just pops in like a nosy neighbor who doesn’t even entertain the thought that you could be busy doing something important, like overthinking every life choice you’ve ever made. You’re double screwed if anxiety brings along its equally disrespectful friend, depression. Double tsuris.

There are many wonderful resources to help… medications (yum), therapists (fun), information to read (educational). There’s a self-help book titled “The Panic Attack Workbook.” I’m sure it’s great, but I’m too scared to read it. 

Fun fact — people with tremendous angst don’t always have a million things to worry about.  It’s often just one or two frontrunners… like how are they going to get through the day and why are you judging them for it?

Sweaty hands can be a sign of anxiety.

Cold hands can be a sign of anxiety.

Having hands can be a sign of anxiety.

In movies you see people live life with a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. People who panic live life with a devil on one shoulder and anxiety on the other, and frankly the devil is pooping his pants scared because the anxiety is going to win every time.

That jerk anxiety has its own GPS. It’s like any second you’ll hear Siri’s voice say, “in one minute you will arrive at the worst-case scenario.”

Experts say anxious people should avoid caffeine, probably because it makes your anxiety faster. Who can keep up?

Well-meaning friends say, “Oh it’s all in your head.” Correct. And it is also in my stomach.

That thing in your skull is technically called a brain, but it should be renamed the three-pound shpilkes marshmallow. It’s such an insult to think we only have one nervous system. Dude, all of my systems are nervous. I would talk to my therapist about it, but I don’t want to bug her. She’s got enough going on. 

If you’re ever playing charades and your word is “anxiety,” just pantomime eating corn on the cob like a typewriter on warp-speed. And then, don’t stop, even after your team guesses correctly.

If you’ve never experienced random panic allow me to explain it. Imagine you turn out the lights, lay your sweet keppie on the pillow, close your eyes to go to sleep, and just as you’re drifting off all of the world’s loudest heavy metal bands start one huge jam session. That’s anxiety. What a convenient time to be reminded of that stupid thing you said out loud in 1997! 

Do you ever watch the garage door close when you leave for the day, but spend the next 20 minutes worrying that you might not have closed the garage? Bingo. Anxiety.

It’s like a constant game of hide-and-seek where you know there is a venomous snake dressed as a scary clown ready to pop out of one of those fake cans of peanuts at any second.

Picture Jack Nicholson in “The Shining” but change the famous line “Heeeere’s Anxiety.” 

People who don’t understand try to help by saying things like, “What’s the worst that could happen?” Buddy, how much time have you got?  Either that, or they’ll suggest you take deep breaths and relax.  It’s like “Eureka. You solved it, Einstein.” Eye roll, eye roll, eye roll.

I do not relax. Instead, I just simmer in anxiety while lying on a hammock. I can be verklempt even while on vacation.

Luckily, I can multitask. I can act calm and confident while losing my mind at the same time. It’s a gift.