It hangs from the ceiling above your bed while you toss through the night hours. It waits inside the door of every employment office you enter. It dogs your footsteps as you pound the job search pavement. It lounges in an empty chair as you crawl through another desultory interview. It sits on your shoulder while you balance your checkbook’s alarmingly diminishing balance. Its name is anxiety. It’s made up of fear, self-doubt, guilt, dread, and self-reproach. It ties your stomach in knots, ma.