If you’re wondering if I’ve designated a name for my mental illness, you are correct. I know it sounds silly, but it personifies an intangible voice in my head that is easy to listen to, unless I designate it an outside person who isn’t speaking any truth.
This has helped me sometimes prevent anxiety from ruining an important day or situation. Whether it is working inside full-time in an enclosed building during a never-ending global pandemic or living among conspiracy theorists who also happen to be politicians, my anxiety tends to make my worries a reality if I don’t deem it what it is — a bully.
I’m not sure why the name is specifically Margaret; I have never known a Margaret, nor do I have a vendetta against someone with that name.
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