This is the thing about anxiety—no matter what you try or don’t try, it’s got you hostage, and it’s getting better at tying knots. It doesn’t matter that they’re the knots you made up so you, inherently, know how to untie them. But with your hands behind your back? Your shoulders wrenched into immobility? Fat chance.
I don’t know the solution. I wish I did.
All I can say for now is to hide the rope and hope for the best.