Jug of water in my guts

I've been feeling anxious lately, and reading through my old journals I came across this.

All day I feel anxious and there's a certain panic that is sitting like a jug of water in my guts. It threatens to spill over and flood the plains of coolheadedness and sangfroid I thought I had cultivated over the last year. But all it takes is for a moment like this to make the plains feel like a mess of pulp and paper, easily destroyed when the water soaks the fibres. Now I'm trying to lay cloth over the paper, in a blind panic, perhaps tearing the paper with my bungling fingers like I am wont to do in my haste.

It's a good reminder that anxiety is cyclical. And that there are tools that help my enneagram type (7: epicure or enthusiast) to deal with it.