Paulo Coelho

For those who cannot learn how to deal with anxiety, life will be a nightmare.

The very thing they should be grateful for – all the hours that make up a day – becomes a curse. They want time to pass more quickly, not realising that this will also hasten their encounter with the Unwanted Visitor.

Even worse, in an attempt to drive away anxiety, they do things that make them even more anxious.

The mother, waiting for her son to come home, begins to imagine the worst.

The lover thinks: ‘My beloved is mine and I am his. And in the broad ways I sought him, but I found him not.’ And with every corner I pass and with each person I ask and who fails to answer my questions, I allow the normal anxiety of love to be transformed into despair.

The worker, while he awaits the fruits of his labours, tries to occupy himself with other tasks, and each task will bring him more moments of waiting.
It will not be long before each single anxiety has grown into one larger anxiety, and he can no longer see the sky or the stars or his children playing.

And mother, lover and worker alike all cease living their lives and simply expect the worse; they listen to rumours and complain that the day seems never-ending. They become aggressive with friends, family and employees. They eat badly, either eating too much or unable to keep anything down. And at night, they lay their head on the pillow, but cannot sleep.
That is when anxiety weaves a veil through which only the eyes of the soul can see.
 
 
taken from MANUSCRIPT FOUND IN ACCRA