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“There are times I wish anxiety served no good purpose. That it could be surgically removed and discarded like an infected gallbladder, one that has tormented a body with constant bouts of pain. The agony is similar—so strenuously endured. What scalpel exists to carve out anxiety from both heart and mind? What prescription can subdue the inflammation? Is there a cure? Or is it somehow essential? A vital part of life that if lacking would cause us to eventually wither away. I see strength gained from it, lessons learned from it, and compassion sprout in its soil. But is there no other way? There are times I wish anxiety served no good purpose.” — Richelle E. Goodrich
There are times I wish anxiety served no good purpose. That it could be surgically removed and discarded like an infected gallbladder, one that has tormented a body with constant bouts of pain. The agony is similar—so strenuously endured. What scalpel exists to carve out anxiety from both heart and mind? What prescription can subdue the inflammation? Is there a cure? Or is it somehow essential? A vital part of life that if lacking would cause us to eventually wither away. I see strength gained from it, lessons learned from it, and compassion sprout in its soil. But is there no other way? There are times I wish anxiety served no good purpose.