Anxiety and I are having a boxing match. I'm winning.
We brawl at least a couple of times everyday; sometimes we go at it all day long. Anxiety will throw an upper cut but I come back with a right-left-right jab followed by a kick in the groin. I've got a mean storehouse of moves that send anxiety running but the fella keeps coming back for more. I wish he would leave and let me be, but until then I'm fighting the good fight. Bound. And. Determined to not let the bugger get a foothold. 'Cause I know that once he gets a foothold the battle picks up pace.
So, mark my words, anxiety, I'm in this for the long haul. I will beat you down daily if I have to and someday you'll be slower to show your ugly face to this soul. Someday you will think that you are going to creep in but I'll sense your presence, shoot you half of a stink eye and you'll pee your pants in fear, dig a hole, curl up in the fetal position and die in it.
I am winning this battle. My battle.
Peace and hope are beautiful. They are mine. It is impossible for anxiety to share a room with hope and peace. The walls of my heart are being etched with beauty:
"You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you."
"Test everything. Hold on to the good."
"Don't be afraid of them. Remember the Lord, who is great and awesome, and fight for your brothers, your sons and your daughters, your wives and your homes."
"And hope does not disappoint us."
"the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world."