Dear Anxiety

We need to talk.

Dear anxiety,

You and me need to have a talk. Because this co-existing crap isn’t working anymore. We need to set up some rules.

You have been with my son since birth, although, like his autism, we didn’t know until much later.

You are a thief. A thief of joy, of calm, of growth. His and ours.

I used to think of you as a monster. A loud, huge, lumbering mon…