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Combatting the Anxiety-Riddled Side Effects of Attempting Wild Feats of Awesome

Writer's picture: Jenny WynterJenny Wynter

Find a happy place. Find a happy place.


Today it has happened. A wave of panic has hit the shore of my being, leaving seaweed trails of anxiety that spell out “AGH! Only 10 days til you jet off to Adelaide for the Fringe!” on the eroding sand of the otherwise relatively calm beach of moi.

Did you get that?

If so, ten points.

All is well. All will be well.

But while my to-do list is battling it out with my sense of panic to see “who will be the largest of them all?” I am trying to calm myself with thoughts that even if all hell breaks loose, it will be wonderful memoir fodder. This is what I tell myself every time I get worried. It does work. Mostly.

Then my dear friend Rachel emailed me today saying that she too, was hitting panic stations about her own amazing creative undertaking. I replied to her with what in hindsight, I realise was really the best advice I could probably give myself:

“I have no doubt that anything amazing achieved in human history has involved the fear of shitting oneself.”

I kinda want to frame it.

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I acknowledge the Gubbi Gubbi, Wakka Wakka and Butchulla peoples, the First Nation Traditional Owners of Country, and custodians of the land and waters on which I live and work, and all the peoples who have welcomed me on Country. I pay respects to all Elders past and present and acknowledge the young leaders who are working beside Elders in our cultural industries in the continuation of cultural, spiritual and educational practices. I recognise all First Nation peoples as the original storytellers of these lands and acknowledge the important role they continue to play in our community.

Jenny Wynter

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