I realized that the most difficult aspect of anxiety is understanding that it’s completely baffling and unexplainable, and that irrationality is the most fertile soil for worries to grow in and fester.
It doesn’t matter if the trigger is serious or goofy; anxiety finds a way to worm its way into your psyche and leave you paralyzed.
So, I’m in my therapist’s office, sunken into a burnt-red armchair.Everything else that’s bothering me – my confusing love life, fruitless apartment hunt, an impossible job search – it can all wait.For whatever reason, it’s weed killer that’s on my mind, because it’s what makes me feel like there’s a rock lodged in my throat obstructing my ability to breathe.When carcinogenic lawn sprays were outlawed in Ontario, my father’s quest for the greenest patch on the block had me dallying in cross-border smuggling—and helped me get to the bottom of my lifelong anxiety.I’m in my therapist’s office in Downtown Toronto, and all I can talk about is weed killer, the magical elixir of pesticides and other carcinogenic wonders that transform brown rotten grass into velvety green carpets.
It was sitting in therapy, talking about weed killer, that I realized in order to be happy and healthy, I had to manage all my anxieties equally – no matter how big or small the source. And yet, I gathered the courage to tell my dad directly, just like his texting style, that I would never get him weed killer because it gave me anxiety, and I’d really appreciate it if he no longer asked me to. He probably doesn’t even remember this conversation as being some milestone in our relationship.