I'm there with you, pinksoil. It always seems that when I finally get a breather, the anxiety kicks in. There's the heaviness in the chest and the feeling that something is amiss and must be fixed. In the quiet, my mind races, sometimes running away with me. I focus on the smallest of upsets; the pressure builds. Soon, I'm focused on the anxiety itself, frustrated that I can't just turn it off.

I often think I could easily accept the periodic bouts of anxiety if I were focused on the really big stuff, not the trivial daily trials and tribulations. I mean, there are certain things in life that should provoke a little anxiety, right? A new job. The health concerns of a loved one. But those things don't deter me, not in the least. Nope, it's the little stuff. I'd compare it to having a splinter in your finger. The splinter's small. It shouldn't do a lot of damage. But, man, that sucka really stings. ; )