Whenever I'm feeling ill at ease, it's always tempting to panic and universalize my anxiety. "Things are just...terrible," I'll think. "I give up. What am I going to do? Everything is just shit." And then, if I'm lucky, some sensible voice--usually either my wife's or my therapist's, but sometimes my own doing a little impression of them--will remind me that, oh yeah, you probably shouldn't keep playing Fallout 3 until 2 AM and then getting into bed and watching MST3K on youtube. Eat a banana or something. Jesus.