Managing anxiety, for me at least, is all about momentum. Keep moving, keep ticking things off the list, try not to let anything stop you in your tracks. The tricky bit is that although most people who suffer acute anxiety have a good idea of what might trigger it, it can still sneak up on you unawares.
For instance: I was an obsessive hand washer long before it became fashionable, and so keeping a small person clean - but not so clean that they never develop any immunity - is a bit of a battle for me. A couple of weeks ago, when my wife was doing the school run, I waved them off and watched them walk down our road. It was rubbish collection day, and wheelie bins stood at even intervals along the pavement. From a distance it looked as if my daughter brushed against a bin on her way past. I couldn't be certain, there was nothing I could do about it, and in all likelihood no harm had been done - but my mind would not let it go. Stopped in my mental tracks, I lost most of the morning fretting about it.
For the last two Wednesdays, I've walked with them to the end of the road. That circumvents the problem rather than solving it. But it gets me through the day. Baby steps.
Five years ago, during the darkest days, generating and maintaining momentum was nigh on impossible. There were times when choosing breakfast cereal sent me into a flat spin - depression feeding anxiety, and vice versa. During those times, exercise saved my life.
I've always tried to stay fit, with varying degrees of motivation, but in recent years it's become my primary weapon in the fight against depression.
Most of the time it's as simple as going outside and putting one foot in front of the other. I use a Garmin GPS watch to track steps and distance, with a daily step goal of 12,000. That's about 10-12km every day. It's enough to push me (different for everyone of course) and force me outdoors whatever the weather.
It can be hard to fit in - I've found myself running in 35 degree heat, splashing through puddles in the dark, or trudging around our living room at 11pm in order to reach the magic number - but it works. Endorphins are released, demons kept at bay. Being me, I'm slightly obsessive about it, but I won't lose my shit if I don't make the goal. (I've taught myself not to)
My ball of dread is quite small today. The sun is shining and I'm looking forward to a run later. The job hunt is in hand - I'm waiting on a couple of applications - and the novel is next on the list. I'll be lucky if more than a few hundred people ever read it, but that's not the point. It will be completed, it will be the best I can make it, and those few hundred people will be entertained.
And I will keep moving.
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