Anti-Anxiety Poem: after Dorianne Laux

Don’t worry. And when someone says Don’t worry, don’t wonder if you’re worrying enough and about the right things. Don’t worry that your headache is really brain cancer and you’ll look terrible without your hair. When your flight is canceled or delayed, don’t assume that you aren’t meant to travel, that where you are is where you’ll have to stay. Don’t double- and triple-check your purse, fingers feeling for your wallet as nimbly as a pickpocket’s. Don’t worry about pickpockets, their dying art.

When the dog shits in the dining room, don’t worry he’ll do it again tomorrow and every day thereafter because you haven’t loved or walked him enough. Don’t worry about being late when you know you’re early or wear your watch on long walks meant to clear your head. When someone asks, What’s the worst thing that could happen? don’t answer tsunami, your U-Haul stolen and set on fire, your husband filing for divorce for reasons you can’t imagine but would probably understand.

Don’t worry that you’ve left your doors unlocked, the oven or coffeepot on. Don’t worry that running out of concrete fears— a flat tire, bad test results, suspicious charge to your account—will leave you open to the vague and nameless dread you’d do anything to avoid. Don’t try to explain, even to those you love, the dilemmas you’ve faced by 9 a.m., the deathbeds you’ve visited, disasters you’ve seen or averted. Don’t worry that worry might be all you have.