The Anxiety Equation

*Special thanks to my therapist for cracking the joke that led to this idea—but remains unaware it prompted me to write this. And who would definitely NOT approve of it in any way, shape, or form.

1. Graph the path of your impending doom.

Where a represents the current problem you’re contemplating.

Not the worry that popped into your head the moment you saw the word “problem” (there will be ample time allotted to consider that in a moment), or the stack of previous anxieties you’ve continued to fret over since engaging in this exercise yesterday. Or in the past hour. (Possibly the last minute)

Do not include the lengthy list of fretting you carry into your troubled sleep each night, with such gems as:

• Where does my permanent record reside, and is someone continuing to update it with all of my mistakes?

• Did I remember to thank the woman who held the door for me last Tuesday?

• Why did I submit my essay to that contest when I knew I wasn’t a competent enough writer to win?

• Is it possible to cause a brain tumor to develop simply by thinking you have a brain tumor?

You may prepare additional graphs (later) if you find yourself unable to narrow your focus to a single problem.

a cannot equal 0. (Who do you think you’re fooling?)

e is an irrational number.

No, it’s NOT a condemnation of your concern as irrational. (Although you’re aware of how ridiculous this exercise is, how pointless and maddening this constant spinning in circles gets each time you undertake it)

A natural base for logarithmic equations, the constant e itself is considered an irrational number with a defined value equivalent to around 2.718281828459. Its definition is absolute and does not require you to circle back to a new graph as you contemplate why you don’t need to come up with the number on your own.

(But you’re going to because it resides outside of your control. And anything you aren’t firmly holding the reins of is cause for concern. So add it to the list of graphs you need to make today, creating a Mobius Strip of insanity)

Welcome to the heart of the anxiety equation: k represents every possible outcome of your worry; +i is mathematics’ fancy way of saying “infinite possibilities.”

The three symbols (letters) represent nothing more than disaster in potentiae. They lie in wait for the vomiting of your mental panic, capable of stretching to ∞. (There is no way to go higher. Save yourself ONE freaking worry and remain content in that knowledge)

Let the dominos fall as quickly or slowly as you wish, propagating the spiral from a tiny center into a glorious sweeping arc—growing wider and wider. Your graph will be buoyed along by the golden ratio of φ (1.61803398875—yes, another constant you don’t need to calculate or come up with on your own. Seriously, leave it alone).

Nothing is more miraculous or marvelous than a spiral, expanding in size without losing shape or relation to its humble origins—a work of beauty honored throughout the universe.

And you are a genius at building that shape. Fueling the fears and conceiving of the concerns that bend the sweeping curves. Nothing escapes the depths of your cunning. Your mind holds every secret possibility—and impossibility.

• How will things go wrong?

• What will shift things for the worse?

• When will catastrophe descend?

You are a master of potential calamity.

If you run out of paper, more is available at the front of the class.

2. Expand the graph for potential growth.

No worry stands alone (for example, the panic you felt when you first glimpsed the assignment). Each new anxiety provokes multiple others simply by existing. And even when you narrow your focus (your previous graph is a thing of beauty, truly), additional concerns branch off and spread, threatening the stability of those precise, perfectly balanced curves.

A graphing calculator (or another suitable program capable of the intense mathematical work you’re afraid you can’t handle—yup, that’s one more for the list!) will ensure no panics go missing. (This also saves you from papering the walls of your house with incessant spirals and convincing the world you’ve genuinely lost your mind…assuming they haven’t already drawn that conclusion on their own after listening to you rattle off possible scenarios when they ask, “What could happen?”)

z represents every additional anxiety with the potential to influence your current problem. It doesn’t matter how closely aligned the two appear at first blush:

• Is it possible your humiliating first date with that idiot you can’t remember the name of will affect how your shoulder heals following surgery?

• Could the one failing grade you received in your entire academic career that never actually impacted your final GPA impact your chances of finishing the short story you’re writing?

• Because you called your supervisor, who deserved the title in every sense of the word, a “bitch,” are you doomed to fail to learn to use your new multifocal glasses before you even try?

Chaos theory exists in the world and will carry those extraneous thoughts within reach of one another, fueling the bends of your spiral. Nothing—NOTHING—is beyond the realms of possibility. You’re better off considering a thought than ignoring a contemplation that will later have a real impact. (In other words, do you not want to roll the dice and take the risk of finding you were right all along?)

b is the likelihood of the disaster befalling, ranked from 1 to 10. This is the most difficult step, particularly for someone like you who always keeps a finger hovering over the red “DEFCON ONE” button.

Breathe slow. Shut your eyes, count to ten, and ask yourself which of those numbers feels most reasonable for each particular catastrophe. (Assigning “ten” to each is an answer but not the most logical. And you are a creature of logic. Look at the mathematical genius you’ve created. You can do better than stark, raving terror…at least for every possibility)

Into the home stretch, you only need to factor in t for time: when each of your predictions is likely to come to pass. (Yes, this is advanced math. But you have the mental capacity to handle it)

You’ve survived endless crises; at least a dozen with each passing moment. You understand how the timeline of worry works. There’s a pattern to when the Sword of Damocles falls. And you can gauge the seconds, minutes, hours, and days it will take for each of these problems to raise their ugly heads. (It’s possible for some to take years, yes. Spirals can grow quite large, but that isn’t a problem since you’re no longer graphing on a sheet of paper)

• The odds of your parents deciding to have multiple offspring will lead to you achieving another story rejection within a week.

• Your teachers’ overwhelming pressure of expectation will cause an argument with your spouse by the end of the month.

• Breaking your first pair of glasses because you hated wearing them and forgot they were in the pocket of your backpack will result in a mental breakdown before the hour is up.

Relinquish the calculations to the computer’s advanced rendering and watch your spiral grow into three dimensions. A veritable whirlpool of anxiety, sweeping away all conscious reason in its path.

And when you’ve mastered this technique? You can connect literally everything you fear into a superstorm of paralyzing worry.

It’s something to look forward to.

…or perhaps something else to add to the list.