Just finished two phone calls that I’ve been dreading and putting off for weeks, and both were fine. I’m relieved, but it’s also a stark reminder of how high my anxiety has been this semester.
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I feel a lot of anxiety about being a parent, but at the end of the day, I take comfort in knowing I’m trying my best—and that I’ve done my part in introducing the next generation to Queen’s Live Aid performance.
A year ago today, I visited a mental health therapist for the first time and immediately wished I’d done it a decade earlier. It’s one of the best things I’ve ever done for myself, and I can’t recommend the experience enough.
Rewriting a syllabus + recurrence of a particular, ongoing personal anxiety + general pandemic stuff = some high levels of pre-semester stress today.
What I love about having ~15 years of personal journals hanging around is that if I ever run out of anxiety rooted in the present, I can go back and remember all the anxiety I felt in the past.
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