My BFF.

Best Friends Forever. It’s somebody who is always there for you no matter what. They often understand you better than you understand yourself. They share your most intimate secrets, triumphs, and fears.

A BFF is somebody you may not talk to for months or even years. But the moment you reach out, you pick up the conversation right where it left off.

A BFF is somebody who’s not always easy to be with. You’ll have your disagreements, your fights, you may even demote them temporarily to a BF or worse, a NFOM (No Friend of Mine). But in the end, true BFF’s, as the title denotes, are forever.

Maybe your BBF is named Cynthia. Maybe your BFF is named Rick. My BFF is named Anxiety.

Okay, before you get all up in my grill about this, I hereby declare this a No-Judgement Zone. My BFF is no better or worse than your BFF, which is why I’m writing this blog. Anxiety has gotten a bad rap for too long, and I’m here to set the record straight.

Once upon a time, Anxiety was everybody’s BFF. Picture one of our primitive ancestors with a spear suddenly facing off against a wildebeest. It was his BFF that helped keep him alive. Chemicals and synapsis immediately started firing off in his brain. His BFF told him you can stand and fight or you can run like hell, but you have to decide RIGHT NOW!

And thanks to Anxiety, we humans are still walking around safely today. Fight or flight is our brains telling us to, at all costs, survive.

Yes, scientists say that Anxiety lives in our brains. They believe specifically in the amygdala.

Sadly, this is where science and I must part company.

My BFF lives in my stomach. It’s like butterflies in your stomach but not the good kind when you first fall in love. It’s more like butterflies being terrorized by Jason and his butcher knife, and it’s not anywhere near Friday the 13th.

Since early childhood, Anxiety has been my constant companion. At this stage in my life I truly wouldn’t know how to live without it.

So-called experts have not always been kind towards my BFF. They’ve even stooped to giving my BFF a nickname. They call it Anxiety Disorder.

Sorry, but I’m going to have to call bullshit on all of this. As we’ve already established no BFF is perfect.

And speaking of BFF’s, a lot of people including people who are very close to me have much more complicated relationships than I do. PTSD. Schizophrenia. Bi-Polar Disorder. Severe Depression. Suicidal Ideation.

Compared to those BFF’s, mine is a walk in the park. Maybe you’ve seen us there, strolling hand in hand, worrying about what to worry about next.

Sure, my BFF isn’t perfect. I never said it was. It can be especially hard on relationships.

Let’s face it. Most women just aren’t into threesomes. Nevertheless, there we are. Me. The Woman I Love. And My Anxiety.

And what happens when my BBF starts suggesting foursomes or even fivesomes? Me. The Woman I Love. My Anxiety. Low-Self Esteem. And Fear of Abandonment.

No woman, no matter how much she loves you, is into that kind of kink. Ironically, it’s her flight-or-fight instinct that ultimately saves her life. Sooner or later, out of self-preservation, she must fly away.

But, hey, let’s not forget all the good times my BFF and I have had together.

Hey, BFF, remember that time when a top executive flew down from New York to give me an award and as soon as you and I entered the room and saw all those people staring at us we just backed slowly out of the room and gently closed the door? Good times.

Listen, if Anxiety happens to be your BFF too, there are ways to make the relationship more productive. Therapy, meds, meditation, and exercise are just a few of the things that have helped me. I highly recommend them.

If I had to do it all over again, would I have chosen Anxiety for my BFF? Hmm.

Well, I guess If I had to do it all over again, and I was free to choose my own BFF, I would have gone with Jennifer Anniston.

Published by bassetts49

50 years in advertising, 20 years as the creative lead on Geico. A life in creative thinking.

2 thoughts on “My BFF.

  1. Your analogy of sabre-toothed cats meeting up with humans is an…um…er…iffy proposition. Smilodons shuffled off to extinction just about the same time humans crossed the land bridge from Asia. I suppose they theoretically could have met, if only in the passing of geologic ages in the night. On the other hand, if I was father to a talking gecko…I too would go with Smilodons and frightened human spear bearers:-)

    Like

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