Far away is just not good enough....

I worry. I think. I analyze. Usually after thinking extensively about a something and considering all the possible negative outcomes that a something could have, I analyze my role in each scenario and that's when all my mental exercise and brilliance usually turns to anxiety. I am a dreamer i guess, except while other 'dreamers' are contemplating promising future's I dream about disaster. This problem gets amplified when I am given time. Time to think, that is. When the something isn't going to happen for a while, the mental disaster usually reaches catastrophic levels that need a superhero's intervention. Someone who can swoop in and beat the giant dread into oblivion, crushing it and making headlines doing it. A hero, saving the day until the evil, looming, specter of anxiety thinks up a new villain.
In reality, what happens is the ginormous problem usually gets laughed at by my family as they wonder, "Is that what you have been wasting your time thinking about all this time?" And so with that, their humor super power lightens my mental load and crushes evil anxiety to shreds. And we break into singing and dancing celebrating the fact that anxiety has once again been overcome as we move on with the tasks at hand. The mountains have been turned into mole hills, not only that, the moles have come out to play with us and they are talking moles, like in Narnia. We are a singing with moles, a truly happy place. The end.
Sometimes, no one is here to laugh at anxiety though. They are all far, far away...and a little worry will be born. And it grows. And pretty soon it is a universal blight and the sky is falling and world is coming to an end. All that is left to do is hide under the table and pray for a miracle. (Tables are like impregnable fortresses, they are safety zones, anxiety can't get to you under a table. But they're heavy so you can't exactly carry on with normal life under a table...which is why anxiety is such a major problem.)
The only worse thing than actually getting to the place where all I can do is find a table and crawl under, is when I resort to laughing at myself to get back out from under the table to face life. A sick little depreciating chuckle that sounds more like a hyena, or a dying frog. This may not conquer the heinous anxiety, but I have to at least learn to manage my fears, however humiliating the process may be...because someone once said, "a life lived in fear is a life half lived"... another person said, "perfect love casts out fear", I get frustrated when people say these kinds of things, it worry's me, which is maybe not the effect they were looking for...which brings me back to my semi constant state of mind lately...M-A-R-I-A and I am an anxiety addict...