The Ones Who Keep Us Steady: Finding Humour in Anxiety and Health Wobbles
There’s a whole category of care that never gets a round of applause.
Here are two more pieces you can wander through:
It’s not dramatic, it’s not glamorous, and it certainly doesn’t come with a swelling orchestral soundtrack. It’s the quiet, unglamorous kind—the sort that shows up armed with practical solutions, endless patience, and, in my house, an actual roll of bubble wrap.
Living with anxiety alongside an ongoing heart condition means life has had plenty of time to wobble. I’ve always been a bit of a fretter—even before I had a name for it—but things certainly kicked up a gear a few years ago with a shock diagnosis. What followed was a blur of hospital stays, procedures, and eventually open-heart surgery and a pacemaker. Even now, with regular tests and medication keeping things ticking over, it remains an active journey.
Through every stage, it hasn’t just been the physical side to manage; it’s the sheer mental exhaustion of the “what ifs”—the quiet, daily debate over energy, limits, and restrictions.
And while we often talk about the person living inside that anxious head, we don’t always talk about the people standing right beside them on the rollercoaster.
The ones who take the overthinker in their life as they come, and quietly learn what helps steady the ship.
Take my husband. To be fair, he’s had decades of practice dealing with my own unique brand of "normal," but after my heart scares, his protective instinct kicked into absolute overdrive. He has openly joked about wrapping me in bubble wrap to keep me safe—and given that we actually own a large roll, I keep meaning to hide it. I kid you not, I once caught him online looking at those inflatable blow-up sumo wrestler suits. It wasn't about fussing or smothering me; it’s just his wonderfully practical, slightly absurd way of saying, “I’ve got you.”
And while he's busy trying to bubble-wrap the world, it turns out it’s that very absurdity that saves me. Who knew? In our house, the quickest way to derail a spiral isn't an intense heart-to-heart—it’s pure silliness.
Which is how, somewhere along the line, we built up a whole repertoire of ridiculous little dance rituals. We have a “going out for the day” dance, a “good luck” dance, an “embarrass the grandkids” dance, and, of course, the sacred “chippy tea” dance.
Not long ago on a Friday night, while waiting for the fish and chips to arrive, we launched full throttle into our chippy tea routine by the kitchen counter—shuffling, swaying, and setting out the plates with absolute dramatic flair. We were a good two minutes in before we happened to look up and realise we were performing directly in front of the wide kitchen window, giving the neighbours in their back garden a completely free, uninterrupted show.
Probably quite entertaining for the neighbours, but there’s nothing like a bit of sheer foolishness to instantly pop an anxious bubble.
Then there was the post-surgery phase where walking into a busy hairdresser's felt just a bit too overwhelming. Rather than making a thing of it, my husband simply armed himself with a pair of scissors and a hairdryer, stepping up as my personal at-home stylist.
His technique needed some work. The first attempt involved endless "evening up" on either side, which eventually resulted in the shortest bob in recorded history. But he stuck with it, and it meant I didn't have to navigate a noisy salon and all the inevitable questions until I felt up to it.
He told me once that offering practical help—doing the physical, tangible, steady things—is simply how he processes the worry. It’s how he feels he’s making a difference when health issues feel entirely out of our control.
And of course, the grandchildren do their bit just by being their usual chaotic selves.
Having teenagers around is a brilliant cure for overthinking. If my battery is running a bit low, they just adapt the banter and drag me right out of my own head.
My granddaughter and I have an ongoing, fiercely competitive game of spotting yellow and green cars. Just recently, while waiting outside the pharmacy for my husband to collect a prescription—completely on my own—a bright yellow car whizzed past. Without thinking, I yelled “YELLOW CAR!” at top volume down a very busy street, earning some thoroughly bewildered looks from passers-by.
In that second, standing there chuckling to myself, all the background worry just evaporated. It was pure, sillyness.
It’s easy to feel like our worries are hard work for the people around us.
But whether it’s family, a good friend, or someone in an online group who simply replies “I get it,” real support is rarely about fixing things. It’s just about having someone who takes you as you are and helps lighten the load with a bit of normality.
Here’s to the ones who don't blink at our quirks, keep the banter going, and make the rough edges a whole lot softer.
When life inflates your mind into an enormous, squeaky balloon of “what-ifs,” you don’t need an expert to untie the knot. You just need a tiny pin—a daft moment, a wonky haircut, or a silly kitchen dance—to let all that hot air right out.
The Ripple Effect: How Illness Impacts the People Who Love You
The Secret Operating System: The Odd Little Rituals That Keep Us Sane
Thanks for reading and virtual hugs to you all.
