Waiting undoes me

Dear Delyara, Waiting for a reply. Waiting for results. Waiting for the school call. Waiting for the person to answer. Waiting for the symptom to pass. Waiting for the conversation that might go badly. My body doesn’t wait calmly. It rehearses. It predicts. It panics in polite clothing while I’m still making tea or loading the dishwasher or driving as if none of that is happening. By the time the actual answer comes, I’ve often already suffered far more than reality required. That is what anxiety steals from me: not just peace, but proportion.