We need to talk. Your anxiety is getting out of hand. Sometimes it presses you into frenetic service, spurring you in the side until you wear yourself out on the altar of "His Excellency." Sometimes, no doubt out of self-preservation, you perform the anatomically challenging task of stuffing your fingers in your ears and hands over your eyes, so that you can pretend there is no amazing feat to achieve. You vacillate between stressed-out striving and overwhelmed evasion of responsibility. It seems hard for you to do the slow and steady, day-in, day-out, diligent but imperfect stuff of life. I get it. It can be hard for me too.