Your Anxiety Isn’t Useless—It’s Just Overdramatic and Overcommitted

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Imagine having a personal assistant who works 24/7, never sleeps, monitors everything you do, and constantly whispers, “Something’s probably going wrong.” Welcome to the experience of living with anxiety. It’s not useless. It’s not a character flaw. It’s just… dramatic. Overly enthusiastic. Think Olivia Pope meets a malfunctioning smoke alarm. It means well—it really does—it just has absolutely no chill.

Your anxiety isn’t trying to sabotage you. It’s trying to keep you alive. It’s your brain’s way of scanning for threats, preparing for disaster, and reminding you to bring a jacket “just in case.” The problem is, it doesn’t know the difference between a tiger attack and sending an email. Everything’s DEFCON 1.

It’s like having a PA who’s deeply committed but catastrophically bad at assessing actual danger. “You have a meeting tomorrow at 10?” Cue panic breathing. “You got a slightly passive text?” Better replay it 47 times in your head. “You need to make a phone call?” Might as well fake your own death. Meanwhile, your rational brain is in the background, sipping tea and muttering, “We really need to talk about your tone.”

But here’s the plot twist: your anxiety does have strengths. It helps you plan, anticipate problems, and spot tiny details others miss. You’ve never forgotten an appointment in your life because your anxiety reminded you of it hourly for six days. You’re the friend who double-checks the locks, packs snacks, and brings plasters no one thought they’d need. You think ten steps ahead. You notice things. That’s not nothing.

The key is learning to manage your personal assistant—not fire them. Because firing anxiety isn’t an option. You need it. Just not at full volume, all the time. So instead, you start setting boundaries. You say things like, “Thank you for your input, but we’re not spiralling right now.” Or, “This is not an emergency, Brenda.” (You can name your anxiety Brenda. It helps.)

You start distinguishing between real alarms and false ones. You ask, “Is this helpful, or is this my brain catastrophising again?” You remind yourself that thoughts aren’t facts. That panic doesn’t equal truth. That feeling scared doesn’t always mean something’s wrong—it might just mean your brain needs a snack and a nap.

And when anxiety does show up with something important? You listen. You slow down. You take care of what needs caring for. But you don’t let it run the whole meeting. You take the wheel. You thank your PA for the heads-up, and then you remind them you’re the one driving.

Some days, that looks like deep breathing and affirmations. Other days, it looks like making a list, taking a walk, or asking someone else, “Does this sound like a thing, or am I doing the thing again?” You get better at spotting the spiral early. You build tools. You learn that anxiety’s volume knob can be turned down, even if it takes practice.

And through all of it, you learn this: you’re not weak for feeling anxious. You’re wired for survival. You’re built to notice, respond, react. You just also deserve peace, stillness, and the kind of calm your anxiety forgot to schedule in.

So next time your brain throws a panic party over an unanswered message or a weird stomach twinge, try this: nod, thank Brenda, and check if there’s actually a fire—or just another email with bad punctuation. Then go drink some water. Maybe stretch. You’ve got this. You’ve always had this. Your personal assistant’s just a little extra.