Anxiety is literally going too fast. Thinking too far ahead, trying to compute all the possible outcomes of a situation as if that’s remotely possible. I’m bad about that.

Growing up my uncle owned this little hometown fast food place. Think Dairy Isle. As far back as I remember, it was always beat into my head that you had to go as fast as possible. If you’re slow, you’re lazy and you aren’t working hard enough.

There’s a line of customers out to the street, standing out in the open with the sun relentlessly beating down on them. Everyone was going at the speed of light to make sure orders got out as fast as humanly possible.

I took that kind of thinking way too far into adulthood. I get in a hurry and talk so fast I forget to breathe. If I’m at work, I try to go through the sales process too fast and have to stop and say, “wait; let me back up” before explaining the thing I forgot to mention that almost made the rest of what I was about to say nonsensical.

You have to slow down and breathe. Unless the person you’re talking to is standing outside in a heatwave and you’re the only thing keeping them out there, you have time to say what you need to say. You have time to keep your cool.