Once upon a time, there was a knight who was feeling down on his luck. He didn't have a really great reason for feeling like he did. When he tried to work during the day, instead of the razor-like focus of previous years, he felt like his chest and heart was being squeezed by a giant, clawed hand. Instead of feeling enthusiasm for his work, he felt a pit in his stomach that could not be filled up, and his legs filled with lead, and he felt like he was sinking into the earth, being swallowed up, unable to be filled.
My dog Duke was the greatest medication for my anxiety.