The phone is the ultimate frenemy to those of us with anxiety.
When I was younger, I had a love/hate relationship with my landline. Love – because like any kid/teen I loved talking to my friends and secretly 3-way calling boys to see if they liked me. Hate – because I had a stuttering problem and had an almost impossible time saying any words beginning with B or D, which made it unbelievably difficult to call my best friend, Desiree.
I also had a hard time calling any boyfriend I had whose name also began with the 2nd or 4th letter of the alphabet. I once got dumped by a guy who’s name started with D because he said, “You don’t care about me. You never call me.” I wanted to scream, “I WOULD LOVE TO, BUT I LITERALLY CAN’T!” However, I was too embarrassed to admit that my stutter was stunting our “love” so instead I went and found a guy with a name I could easily say – Paul. My new bbbbbbbbbbbbboyfriend, Paul.
Now that texting has replaced talking, when anyone calls, I go into serious panic mode. If they leave a voicemail, I’m paralyzed with fear. Horrible thoughts swirling in my head. I always assume the worst. I get the voicemail notification on my phone and I immediately think, “THEY MUST BE CALLING TO TELL ME THAT EVERYONE I’VE EVER MET IS DEAD. IT’S THE END OF TIMES. WHY GOD? WHY!!!!
Moral of the anxiety story: Just do the right thing and TEXT.