The big A

Anxiety comes in many shapes and sizes. It can be triggered by big and little things and can be a big or little thing itself. I say this with some confidence because it was once a very big thing for me. I worried about everything and anything unaware there was any other way to be. Happily, there is another way. (One day I will write about how I made that realisation but I'll warn you in advance that it wasn't pretty.)

Nowadays, for the most part, anxiety is a small thing in my life. Occasionally, though, I slip back into my well worn ways. I know I'm crossing the line when I begin fretting over details that even the most fastidious worrier needn't worry themself with. For example, when I begin to quietly panic about whether I will get to work the next day, or wake to my alarm, or whether we will use all the vegetables in the fridge before they wilt, I know it's time for some stern reflection.

If you're not inclined towards anxiety, you might read that and think I'm having you on. I'm not. I've actually spent time scared about things as inconsequential as that. And worse. I was once so accustomed to having a blanket of fear lingering over me that if I found myself without a specific qualm I would panic over that and quickly find something to worry about.

For me anxiety's unique quality is its ability to render me incapable of distinguishing between necessary and unnecessary concerns. When I'm in anxiety's clutch my physical reaction – shortness of breath, dread, heart racing, heart sinking, fear - is the same regardless of the utility of my concern. Some things do warrant apprehension and a physical reaction is sometimes inevitable. Before a job interview, or an exam, or giving birth.

The issue is when you can't make any distinction. Because everything is greeted with the same agony. That's when I know the little a has become a very big A and that's not particularly sustainable.

I bring this up because recently I crossed the line. If we're friends on Facebook or you follow me on Twitter you might know that I had a big win in the childcare department recently. Miss I has got a spot at a fantastic childcare centre just around the corner from where we live. This is hugely exciting for several reasons.

For one thing it means navigating public transport during peak hour with a pram and a toddler, twice a day, is about to become a thing of my past. A very dark thing from my past. The other big win is it's substantially cheaper. It's impolite to talk about money but the weekly saving is equivalent to almost two whole extra days. So it's good, good, news all around.

I was ecstatic for 24 hours before my elation turned to unease. A few days later I listed the various doubts and fears I had entertained since hearing the news. And when I say entertained I don't mean for a fleeting second. I devoted many, many, minutes of real time worrying about each and every item on this list. You might notice that some of them contradict each other. That's all part of the fun.

• Is it too unsettling to move Miss I?
• Are we mean parents for being excited to save money on childcare?
• Is it bad that I won't be spending as much time with Miss I each day because although the commute is hellish at least we're together for it?
• Is it bad that I've put her through seven months of public transport?
• Will Miss I's current carers be sad that she's leaving?
• Or worse, will they be happy that she's leaving?
• Will they think I don't like them or think they didn't do a good job?
• Will Miss I like her new carers?
• Will her new carers like her?
• Am I selfish for changing her?
• Am I selfish for working?

In hindsight, the list is comical. At least it would be if it weren't true. Each concern comes from a place of love and wanting what's best for Miss I but nothing was achieved by my fretting. Particularly because we'd already made the decision. A decision that I had no hesitation in making because it was such a no-brainer.

If we were undecided those issues would absolutely require some thought. But we had made the decision. And yet I was consumed with fear and worry anyway. And that is the lingering curse of the big A. The good news is it forced me to snap me out of an old habit. Or in the words of Caitlin Moran, it made me shut up.