I’m not sure why, but for as long as I can remember when upset there is one artist I tend to listen to. I know that most people will assume that artist is Garth Brooks, but oddly enough no. Yes, every now and then there is a combination of the artist I plan on writing about with Garth and others, but the music I always listen to when upset is Alan Jackson. Why? I have no idea. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, but something I remember my mom realizing and pointing out to me once upon a time. I feel oddly better afterward, typically, and as if all of the sadness I’ve been feeling has been sucked from my body and tossed aside. Hopefully not to someone else, but aside nonetheless. Continue reading “Anxiety is a crippling asshole” →