Anxiety. The word alone sounds like a gust of wind knocking over a fragile stack of neatly placed thoughts. It sneaks in like an uninvited guest, wrecks the party, and somehow convinces you that the world is ending because you used the wrong emoji in a text. Funny, right? Well, not when your stomach feels like a restless butterfly farm and your brain is hosting its own version of a chaotic kaleidoscope.

It starts with realizing you have anxiety. That’s step one, and let me tell you, that “aha!” moment isn’t exactly comforting. It’s like discovering a stray cat has been living rent-free in your head, clawing at your sanity whenever it pleases. Anxiety affects your mind, body, and soul in ways that are both perplexing and exhausting. You think faster than the WiFi speed you can afford, your chest feels tighter than your old jeans, and your soul—oh, the poor soul—just wants to nap forever.

Nature has this magical ability to ground you, though. I once sat under a tree, trying to breathe through my spiraling thoughts, and I noticed an ant carrying a crumb ten times its size. If that tiny creature could face its Everest, why couldn’t I? (Of course, the ant didn’t have a to-do list or social anxiety, but still, it felt metaphorical.)

I’ve tried everything to manage anxiety. Relaxation exercises? They make me feel like I’m auditioning for a yoga instructor role I never wanted. Journaling? Helpful until I spiral into overthinking what I just wrote. Meditation? Ah, yes, my meditation sessions turn into the most peaceful naps of my life. Aromatherapy? My room smells like a lavender farm exploded. Herbal teas? Let’s just say I’ve drunk so much chamomile that my taste buds have gone on strike.

And yet, in the middle of all this, I’ve learned one profound truth: It’s okay to not be okay. Anxiety isn’t something I can magically cure with scented candles or kale smoothies. But I can laugh at it, poke fun at its absurdity, and accept that it’s just part of me. Some days are manageable; others feel like I’m playing dodgeball with my own thoughts. But here’s the thing—I don’t have to control my thoughts. I just have to stop letting them control me.

One day, I stumbled upon a book that said, “When you feel hurt, let yourself feel hurt. Process and recover.” Honestly, my first reaction was to say, “Bull***!” Who has time to process when your brain is running an anxiety marathon? But over time, I realized there’s wisdom in allowing yourself to feel, even if it’s uncomfortable or inconvenient.

I’ve also started using humor as a weapon against anxiety. Whenever I feel overwhelmed, I tell myself, “There cannot be a crisis next week. My schedule is already full.” Or I remind my anxiety that it doesn’t pay rent, so it has no right to dominate my day. And let’s be real—worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, but it sure as hell saps today of its joy. I refuse to lose out on the little things that make life beautiful.

So, do I think I’ll ever fully overcome anxiety? Probably not. There will always be something to fret about—life has a way of keeping you on your toes. But I’ve learned to trick my anxiety, laugh at its absurdities, and keep moving forward. That’s my way of reclaiming joy, even if it’s just 5% at a time.